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One day, He got Her Daisies and Daffodils. Wrapped out of the most lustrous paper. Thorns, dead leaves, butterflies, he didn't mind. He got her attention and kiss her lip-locked. Between darkness and diurnal, They are dancing beneath the tranquil sky. He got her to love him. Hurt, pain, sacrifice, she didn't mind. He was hers that night and the day after that. Night collapsed, days gone by. She was oblivious. He was not around. She was herself. He was not. It turned to a make believe facade. A dead romance. A broken vow. How could be once inseparable Is now fragmented and hopeless. How could the love have departed and shuttered into pieces. The flowers have died. The sky turned blue and gray at night, Even morning scares her now. She let him go. He didn't chase her back.
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Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
Poetry of the Dead Romance
One day, He got Her Daisies and Daffodils. Wrapped out of the most lustrous paper. Thorns, dead leaves, butterflies, he didn't mind. He got her attention and kiss her lip-locked. Between darkness and diurnal, They are dancing beneath the tranquil sky. He got her to love him. Hurt, pain, sacrifice, she didn't mind. He was hers that night and the day after that. Night collapsed, days gone by. She was oblivious. He was not around. She was herself. He was not. It turned to a make believe facade. A dead romance. A broken vow. How could be once inseparable Is now fragmented and hopeless. How could the love have departed and shuttered into pieces. The flowers have died. The sky turned blue and gray at night, Even morning scares her now. She let him go. He didn't chase her back.
-pbwf- Im back with this piece. Words are very much missed. I'll always come back.
poembornwithfeet
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Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
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