Where The World Of Poems And Fanasty Lies

I built my castle on shifting sand,
Believing hearts could truly understand.
Romantic whispers floated on air,
Promises woven with tender care. They spoke of soulmates under the moon,
Of destined embrace, a perfect tune.
Yet I watched lovers fade in the night,
Their fervent glow dissolving from sight. True love is a story told by the bold,
A fading myth, a lie retold.
A rose that wilts before first dawn,
A fleeting spark that soon is gone. We search for mirrors in other eyes,
But find reflections of hollow disguise.
Sweet words dissolve into bitter coughs,
When honesty’s gone, and trust is lost. I held a hand, felt its beating pulse,
But realized the touch was a practiced waltz.
Our synchronized steps masked my regret,
A dance of masks I can’t forget. We chase devotion like moths to flame,
Ignoring the danger that bears our name.
The heart is a compass that points to drought,
A map with secrets it never speaks out. So I whisper to moonbeams in midnight air,
That true love’s a phantom hidden nowhere.
A tale for children and fools alike,
A candle doused by a bitter strike. No velvet curtain parts to reveal
Two hearts that bind and never repeal.
Only shadows clinging to empty space,
Haunting the silence with hollow grace. Don’t seek the myth, don’t place your bet,
On promises lovers can’t fulfill yet.
Let truth be your guide, let reason be real,
For true love, sweet friend, is not how you feel. Believe in the dawn, not the dreamers’ sigh,
In steady sunlight, not lovers’ lie.
For hearts may wander, but minds endure,
True love’s a rumor, not something pure.
Embrace the practical, let illusions fall,
Find solace in truth, the greatest call. Love is exchange, dear; no sacred vow immortal.