If You Were an Actress, You’d Be Famous

If you were an actress,

you would be even more famous—

standing beneath silver screens and bright lights,

delivering lines of false love

that would make a crowded hall weep.

The way your eyes shimmered with practiced tears,

my heart would pound in my chest—

believing,

just this once,

you were finally telling the truth.

But behind every beautiful word

there lived a carefully crafted lie.

You act so flawlessly—

even the heroines of cinema

would surrender before your talent.

Had you stood before a camera,

you would have won awards.

Yet for breaking my heart,

you have already claimed every trophy.

I was merely a viewer—

sitting alone in the dark theater,

watching your performance of love,

while unknowingly wagering my entire life on it.

In the net of your deception,

my innocent heart became entangled

so tightly

that even seeking freedom now feels shameful.

Was I truly that foolish?

Why else would I believe

the language of your eyes was truth?

You were acting—

and I was loving sincerely.

You were reciting lines—

and I was carving each word

into my soul like a sacred vow.

Now I understand—

it was never love, only a perfect play.

Yet even after the final scene has ended,

I still stand before the curtain,

waiting for a fragment of truth.

But deep down, I know—

there was never any truth in your story.

Only performance,

and the silent sound

of a foolish man’s broken heart.