battle scars and broken hearts

by
you and I are writing different stuff
at unpredictable intervals of time;

the experiment looks like
a temperamentalish naked poetry;

on the other hand, in very deed, hunts
a humor's sense that dissects our mood;

it's life's pulse we trapped
in its battle scars and broken hearts;

it's our dark sky of winter's leisurely,
crystallized by drones' foam;

it's a wish degree pulverizing oneness,
to affect today our atoms' thrill;

it's a hug and kiss, sent and caught,
(nervelessly), (for love shrills us both);

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