❛ it'll not live for long in your hands. ❜ he murmured against the wind with the breath at his side. what is still alive in a human's hand? not even the most beautiful things in art can be rescued from humans. he looks at the ornate red beneath his feet: the large red roses, whose bloody, rough glow burned beneath the wet ashes of some morning in the dirty hands stained by the sin in which they wither in their ironic metaphor. ❛ soon it will die and lose its color; when that happens, you will not continue to admire the beauty of that rose, will you? ❜ // @kindhcart ♡’d for a starter .















