She talked too much,
And I had all the time to listen.
She never knew my identity,
Just enjoyed the letter, I had written.
She never got to see the man,
Behind the hidden letters on her purse.
I wasn't the man she was longing for,
And it felt like a curse.
She loved the character,
Not the person who wrote it.
She gave her heart to the person in that letter,
And who am I to break it?
I wanted her to be happy,
So I let her enjoy her fantasy.
I was happy, my letters did the magic,
Full of love and ecstasy.