In the quiet corners of the mind,
Where whispers softly weave,
A tapestry of tales unkind,
That hearts can scarce believe.

The gentle veil of words concealed,
A truth that hides away,
In shadows where intentions yield,
To night that conquers day.

Yet in the light, the mask will fall,
Revealing eyes that cry,
When silence breaks the bitter thrall,
And echoes of the lie.

But fragile is the dance we tread,
On paths of broken trust,
For in the end, the words unsaid,
Return to whispered dust.