the flowers are not real,
and our friends
are pouring in.
you are quoting a film;
pouring the wine
into imaginary glasses.
i made a playlist,
moved the furniture
and showed you
my collection of photos
of every time
I saw your name
anywhere.
the conspiracy is not real
and
the invisible party is tonight.
we took our time
to do nothing
and get nowhere.
they are celebrating us —
the empty room of no one.
no memory
of the next part.
you are not real,
and sometimes
when you really want
something,
it does not happen.