My fictitious Love

My fictitious Love
For whom I write
Page after page
Of overwrought words
Are you just fiction
Or do you really exist
---A real person---
Lurking in the silence
With which you enshroud yourself
Hidden from my searching eyes
Between the pages
On which I write
My dreams about You
And Me
Fiction though it may be

My fictitious Love
Are you a real person
Who plays hide and seek
Between my story book pages
Waylaying me in the
Various camouflages
That you wear and discard
Appearing, disappearing, appearing
Again and again
With every turn of a page
Which I create perhaps
To trick myself perhaps
Into momentary magical moments
Of wonderment, of beatitude,
Of dreamy certitudes
Fiction though it may be

But, my fictitious Love,
Even while we play our endless
Games of make believe
And I keep creating and recreating
You -- my main, my only -- Protagonist
The Hero I wring, squeeze, exude
From my fervid, fervent imagination
The champion who wins every accolade
In every field of endeavour
The warrior who defends me, protects me
From every adversary
The illustrious star who strides
Head held high through
The pages of the story I write
Sometimes I wonder
How will our story end
What will be the fate of this tale
Is it going to be a tawdry tragedy
You know, one of those tearjerkers
That leave you so mushy and sad
Or is it going to be one of those spectacular
'They lived happily ever after'
Fairy tale endings
We love to see in the movies
As we ride off arm in arm
Into the sunset of a rosy horizon!

Fiction often has this propensity
To mimic Life--
Until we turn to the last page
---Yet to be written---
It can be full of hidden uncertainties