Dominic Riccitello
Sep 22, 2026

the smallest things

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in the kept gardens of where i stand i hold your hand too softly almost afraid to feel you here and i stay beside this place among the flowers i leave behind the ones that grow in corners of where i still long to live the wind against my skin your eyes into mine and my mind moves in so many ways i no longer know which direction belongs to me or which one came from you i sit along the fences with hands crossed legs tangled into this song your touch my hands the quiet between them and i felt it beyond what i knew how to say there is a softness in warmth the kind that settles slowly and i almost do not blame it for taming my mind at night for making everything feel a little less restless a little more like somewhere i could stay and it feels so right to feel like this stuck between where i could be and where i should between the life i imagine and the one that keeps unfolding beneath my feet and i feel you like something small that stays beneath the skin like bees moving between flowers only to circle back again like my hands against your fingers lingering a second longer than either of us meant them to i never had the chance to feel something quite like this without wondering where it would go without measuring the distance before i even took the step but the thing with wind is it keeps blowing we keep drifting songs keep lifting and i keep reminiscing sifting between places i knew and places i never needed between what was mine and what i only borrowed for a little while your eyes leave me in song and the words collide within me i remember what i spoke the things we shared the sensation of two how strange it is to feel another person inside a moment you thought belonged only to you the thing with time is we escape into our worlds and i happen to love my world a little too hard where the walls are not walls but doors and every door opens with a softness like hands reaching through from somewhere i cannot see hands that bend hands that hold hands that mend what i did not know was still waiting to be touched and we touch for a second but when a second feels like this it becomes minutes and minutes become hours and suddenly we are dancing to a tune we somehow knew before the music ever started these details create our memories the glance the breath the way a hand rests before deciding whether to move and i long to live like this where i remember the little things before they become the things i wish i had remembered why we say what we say why i felt you why i felt myself becoming clearer beside you without needing to know what any of it would become maybe that is enough to feel it while it is here to let the wind move through to let the doors open without asking where they lead and to build a life worth living from the smallest things i was lucky enough to notice