You’re not real.

I made you up inside my head,
Stitched-up Man,
You’re Dead,
Weaved from my deepest dreams,
Disintegrated at the seams.

You’re not real.

Your eyes,
They lie,
Your smile,
Deceives,
Your hands that reached for mine,
Diseased,
Your heart,
Black.

You’re not real.

I so wanted you to be,
I breathed you into life,
And then could do nothing but watch,
As the true you unfurled,
An alien, cold, impersonal thing.

You’re not real.

It’s my fault, I know,
I just couldn’t let go,
Of the fantasy,
The ecstasy,
You and me,
You and me,
You and me.

You’re not real.