We'll Become Silhouettes

Bored with love, and

its passionless limbs

draping over my head

with the stench of impotence, and

while wearing the same red heart

my soul picked up hitchhiking

in search of serendipity.

Alone in togetherness

strange as it sounds, 

trying to build dreams, but

nothing can tie us together

if our hearts wish to be solitary.

All the vows clichéd

fading away forever

like meaningless words do.

All we've become:

another pair of soulless shadows.

And we wonder why

the roses are dying.