Our dead hearts inhale the meekness of the weather.
Our dead hearts whimper at the sound of sirens wailing.
Our dead hearts ardently listen to
the gushing of blood through yours/my/our veins.
Our dead hearts rhythmically resonate at
the exuberance of our peripheral hyperventilating lungs.
Our dead hearts,
Our eyes smoulder,
The Sun. The Moon.
As we gaze into each other’s souls.
Our dead hearts are alive for each other.