Your Lie In April

They say that when you fall in love, your world turns brighter.
I never thought it would be true…
At least, not until I met you.
From the crest of the hill, I could see you looking off in the distance, looking for someone.
I walked up behind you, but I hid when you heard me.
You faced the horizon, and I continued to sit in my hiding spot.
Our worlds side by side, but never overlapping.
At least, not until you found me.
It was on that fateful night.
You were gazing up to the stars, while my head hung low.
The wind blew against me, chilling me to the bone.
It reminded me that I was all alone.
The thought echoed in my mind:
“Alone…alone…you are all alone…”
When I began to fall into the darkness, I didn’t feel the cold ground against my skin.
Your warm arms were wrapped around me, saving me from falling into the dark abyss.
That was when the world was no longer monotone.
My eyes were opened for the first time.
You smiled gently at me, and my world felt complete.
We laughed…we cried…we loved each other endlessly.
I knew at that moment that I didn’t need any other person in my life.
At least, not until things changed.
You began to talk about moving to the next part of your journey.
Why were you thinking of leaving me?
We talked about the possibilities as to what would happen to us, but nothing was ever decided.
At least, not until you made our decision.
I woke up that morning, but you were nowhere to be found.
No trace was left…
You vanished as though you never existed in the first place.
But I knew you weren’t a figment of my imagination.
I held you…I kissed you…I looked into your eyes.
But as the days passed, it became harder to remember who you were.
The horrid thought returned once more.
I began to drown in my loneliness.
The ocean of solitude morphed me into a lifeless corpse.
At least, until the tides changed.
Despite being numb, I felt a warm touch stroking my cheek.
I opened my eyes for the first time in a long time, and there you were.
You smiled at me, but tears filled your eyes.
You told me I was not alone, and I wouldn’t be ever again.
It brought me back to the lie you said about leaving and not coming back.
You broke your lie in April.
And when you broke it, my world became the brightest it has ever been.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Kathryn Sain

Kathryn Sain

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I've been writing poetry ever since middle school, but I've never really thought about releasing my work to the public until coming to college. Currently, I am studying music as my major and English as my minor.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

Ford’s Theater, April 15th, 1865,

Fords Theater, April 15th, 1865, ode

Petersen House, Washington, D.C. (i admit to own a passion for the Civil War in general, and the life and death of the sixteenth president in particular). between a hard spot of whiskey and draughts of arrack nonetheless (without doubt),

Commentaries — From April 4, 2014

Commentaries     From April 4, 2014 prose poem

though moo cho yars older, i (bovine cuddly name = hay4four at aol dot com), could feign 2b a frat house bro by undergoing a facial augmentation – despite lacking dough unlike the multimillionaires here in lower merion, where a

Beautiful Lie

Beautiful Lie short poem

You drew me in and kiss me Your hand reached out and grasp me. The other clutching my hair, You touch me with utmost care. I close my eyes and feel your lips. They were sweet with soft, gentle nips.

Your Lie

Your Lie short poem

“You’re my sister,” you say. Whenever things get tough, we’ll always have each other. “I’ll always be here,” you say. “Thank you. It goes both ways,” I say when I believe what you are saying. Because the truth is, I


April prose poem

I will end up at the sky gates, as a thirsty spike, roving around in valleys, looking for a crippled dream. I am an almond tree, a stolen joy for a feast of phantoms. I bend to the mornings’ face,