If there was a poem about this love

It would be typed on the computer
Semantics digitised and feelings magnetized

She walked past the story
Unaware the cameras were rolling
Lights, props, and actors all in place
I had to forget my lines at that point

Although it never started
It would end
With me throwing rocks into the ocean
The waves pushing time into my life

If I return to the middle of the story
She would be standing in front of me
Her face blurred
By the scratches of my pencil
No matter how hard I tried to sketch her
It is an image from history

I remembered that I've forgotten her
On the last day we parted
The cold trees lined a path
All the way into my colourless dream

Are all love poems melancholic?
Because our existence is too dull
To screw our perspective on life
Sorrow the antidote for emptiness

If she was aware
Of the world created in my head
Would her presence fill the void?
Pushing love out of this poem?

How could I love an image so clear?

A love that waits to be unloved