The speaker has just realized that the romantic world they built in their imagination doesn't exist. In that daydream, someone throws rocks at a window to ask for a kiss, brings roses, and dances with them in the rain. These are the kind of scenes you'd find in a film, and the speaker admits they invented every one of them.
The mood is quiet and sad, with a note of resignation. There's no anger here, just the dull ache of waking up and finding the dream gone. The short, plain lines make it feel like someone talking softly to themselves. The ending is the most striking part. "Love isn't / what i made up" is split across two lines, so the speaker seems to pause before admitting the truth. It's ambiguous: love may not exist the way they pictured it, or it may simply be less magical than their fantasy. Either way, the speaker is left lonely and disappointed, caught between what they hoped for and what's real.