P.Righini, 2025
The long waiting has scratching hands, my velvet skin turns rough with sands. Through the window, people stray, lost in thoughts, they fade away.
A woman kneels, her tears collide, sweat and sorrow on her face she hides. With a rag she scrubs the floor in pain, a stain of blood that still remains.
How can I think when waiting’s near? Desire and fear, they both appear. Is it love or just the fire?
A girl moves gently in the glass, hips that sway as moments pass. Dreaming of love, of her night ahead, while in my room I drown instead.
You are as beautiful as she, my woman who still waits for me. Impatience grows, yet I confess, your absence turns my soul a mess.
How can I think when waiting’s near? Desire and fear, they both appear. Is it love or just the fire? A fleeting touch, a cruel desire.
Alone with mirrors on every side, a thousand windows where I can’t hide. I ask myself, do I love true? The answer whispers: yes, I do.
She is my fairy dressed in red, doe eyes burning in my head. She rules my heart, she owns my name, and still I shout it loud with flame.