In the garden of deceit, where roses never bloom,
Lies a tale of shadows, woven in the gloom.
Promises whispered under a fading moon,
Yet the echoes linger, like a haunting tune.

Eyes that shimmer with the light of stars,
Yet hide the truth behind fragile bars.
A touch so tender, yet cold as stone,
In the silence, the heart feels alone.

Words like silk, soft upon the ear,
Yet carry within a lingering fear.
A facade of love, painted with art,
But beneath the surface, a hollow heart.

In the end, the truth begins to unfold,
Revealing stories untold, and secrets cold.
Fake love, a fleeting, fragile play,
Leaves the soul yearning for the light of day.