The romantic

He was a romantic
He used to daydream all the time,
With beautiful landscapes painted on his lover’s eyes
He liked to smile

He was a romantic
A romantic of the worst kind
An “I bring you flowers” kind of guy
With all the poems and the lover’s promises

Now that he has died
There is no more blue sky
Only the broken dreams of a betrayal love
And the memories of the lonely flower left behind.

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