A Metaphor (On Young Love) - The Revision

You and I, we are a fruitless peel,
an empty shell hanging
from the trees.

A superficial and disappointing
deception, rotting
from the inside out.

You and I, we are a murder scene,
chalk outlines that frame
promises cut short.

Once full of life, now cold and stale,
and they inquire
for a cause of death.