My love for you is the idealized version, authors write about.
Great authors that weave words with vivid imagery.
Portraying that ideal.
Emotionally captivating readers far and wide.
However, is our story together finished?
A book with no pages left unread.
Read cover to cover.
Was what we felt based on a true story?
Or a work of fiction?
Were we both characters in an imaginary world I created?
I imagined it was real, a life story with each other about to start.
But to you, our love was a work of fiction.
You saw me as a side character in your own story.
Insignificant to the plot, enough for your entertainment, nothing more.
I was a chapter of your life until you turned the page.