I was in love with love
immersed in a melancholy desire
for the affections of someone
who never existed I now realise
beyond my own stupid head

wrapped in imagination
tied with bows of fantasy
a present I could never open

anticipation
always more magical
than the actual event

this love was of my own creation
impossible for reality to measure up to
she's still up there somewhere
I visit when I can
in quiet moments of contemplation
the mistress of my brain