for my best friend, GKRO
There's the remnant of ashes,
the stained white rose petals
which scent smells of a dying
charm rest like broken earthenwares.
there's no death in beauty
as it is relative to perfection
thus, it is a selfish possession,
a gift of property.
like the quality of ashes,
it is vulnerable, it can be destroyed
but still it has its pulchritude
tangible yet for others, it is imperceptible.
it is the standard of taste
that defines beauty
as i said, it is eternal
for the word itself
captures the kind of elegance
and grace it could give,
it blooms from the lips.
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