I prefer dead flowers over fake ones.

For years, dead roses sat in the corner of my room and I would stare at their beauty from time to time. Of course, flowers that are still alive are beautiful, colorful, and fragrant. Yet, there is something alluring about dead flowers. They possess their own beauty. One touch could crumble their petals. There is beauty in something so delicately fragile.

Delicate. Fragile. Beautiful then and now. Tired. Haunting. I see myself in the dead flowers that sit in the corner of my room and I cannot throw them out.
I have been working on having a more positive mindset. Which means I probably should not associate myself to dead flowers, but that doesn't mean I will ever stop admiring their beauty.