Alessandro,
they whisper your name,
a dark legend playing out
in the streets of midnight,
where dreams wear shadows
like a tattered cloak.
You step lightly through alleys
where secrets hide,
the quiet pulse of power
thumping under asphalt,
eyes like storm clouds,
calculating,
searching for a glint of loyalty
in a world of betrayal.
Love, once a bright ember,
now cools in the night air,
smoky wisps of memory,
twisting and turning—
a ghost dance of laughter
that echoes off the brick walls.
You hold a crown of twisted thorns,
each spike digging deep,
reminders of soft words
that turned to dust.
Nights sit heavy like lead,
the weight of lost souls
pressing on your shoulders.
Fingers brush the crumpled notes,
words etched in moments—
promises thrown to the wind,
haphazard calls from hearts
that shattered under the roar
of engines revving at dawn.
Once, you ruled with a grin,
charming with soft snowflake eyes.
Now fury fuels the city,
where shadows are your friends
and fear the currency of trust.
Carriages rattle in the dark,
their shadows cling tight as lovers,
but what is love
when all you wear is silence,
and companionship feels like a knife
left to rust on the floor?
Alessandro, you stand still,
a statue carved from longing,
deep in the web of your own making,
trapped between what was
and the cold, hard truth of now.
In this sprawling kingdom of night,
your heart clenches,
wrapped in the cords of choice—
a mafia king with golden dreams,
yet buried in love lost,
in shadows deep.
And still you walk,
offering calm to the chaos,
a silhouette against the fading light,
searching for a spark,
the warmth of a smile
to break through the veil.
But in this dance of dark and desire,
only echoes answer,
and shadows whisper
what once was
and never can be again.