Cor aut Mors
Beauty is fleeting,
It dies with age.
Art is eternal,
A bright, glowing flame.
Friendship is seldom,
For those who've never known it.
Fleeting as well,
For the few that show it.
Love is a lie,
To all that have felt it.
Drawn into to its ties,
Only to wither and die.
Some argue that it is beauty reincarnate,
But beauty is fleeting,
And I'd much rather not be
Shriveled and lifeless,
For the rest of my being.
A silent pact,
An unspoken oath,
An assumed agreement,
Shattered.
Two lives, built up.
Two lives, torn down.
Ars long vita brevis,
Cor aut mors.