LOVE IS FICTIONAL

In a realm where dreams do dwell,
A tale of love I long to tell.
But beware, for truth unveils,
Love's existence, a story it retails.

Love, they say, a force divine,
Binding hearts in a sacred twine.
Yet I've roamed the depths of thought,
And found love's fabric to be naught.

Oh, how poets weave their rhymes,
Crafting verses through endless times.
But beneath the words that grace the page,
Lies a tale of love's elusive stage.

For love, dear friend, is but a guise,
A figment born of hopeful sighs.
Emotions tangled in a tender embrace,
A mirage that fades without a trace.

Passion's flame may burn so bright,
But love's mirage deceives the sight.
For as hearts entwine in sweet desire,
They dance upon a fleeting wire.

Illusions weave their intricate spell,
Painting love as something to compel.
But what is this, if not a dream,
A fantasy wrapped in moonlit gleam?

Love, my dear, is but a muse,
An idea to ponder and to amuse.
For in reality's cold, cruel domain,
Love's touch is fleeting, elusive, and vain.

So let us cherish what love imparts,
The dreams it stirs within our hearts.
But remember, too, its fictional grace,