she was a hopeless romantic.
her mind raced with the sweetest idea of love before she slept,
showing impossible scenes of lovers as they danced and lept.
it showed an enemy tending to her wound,dancing in the rain right after.
romanticising what she read in books, lying on a meadow looking into each other's eyes.
to find the letter in front of her door, in which the art of feelings was printed in words.
she adored those who eagerly jumped before a bullet, only so they could protect their beloved woman.
it was foolish to have raised her expectation so high,
but she didn't mind being trapped in a dream so divine.
