Along the lines of miscommunication war broke out.
A civil discord of peace mistaken for chaos.
The clatter of pins layered on one another, pulled from grenades, thrown at the last minute. shattered through the air.
Devouring everything it touched.
This was how I saw her heart.
Flung through the air.
Gripped firmly. Released by loose hands.
A explosion scattering dirt and grime.
A slight ticking pacing back and forth.
Debating the result of action.
Broke apart from shell and casing.
This was the end result of the nights she spent awake contemplating.
Was there ever room for compromise. Accepting reason as excuse.
This was the first time I noticed how stubborn hearts can be.
Doomed to explode at any given moment. Hearing every reason but their own. Detonation was imminent.
Her heart packed tight in shell and casing.
The smell of gun powder lingered in the air.
The sound of ammo being loaded in metal cartridges.
Jammed tight in automatic rifle.
For each bullet I loaded into the cartridge was a bit of reassurance that what I knew in my heart was right.
The fact that action spoke louder that words could be seen from every one of her grenades, the steam arising from the nose of my rifle in defense of why.
This was the sound of my heart firing shot after shot
Reigning from soot covered hands.
Not of hate. But as a means of trying to breakdown the wall of her understanding.
The sound of our argument could be heard from miles on end.
The ground soiled in yellow explosion covered with piece after piece of her heart.
The aftermath of bullets layered in thick walls.
There I stood in premeditated assault in belief that we were on separate sides defending  what we perceived as right.
Alone our boots shook the ground that trembled in fear.
Hidding behind walls completely missing the point that if we truly fought for the same cause,
Who'd truly win if we continued. Destroying nothing but ourselves in the process