Improvising

My heart operates on battery.
Yes, you can read it two ways;
neither of them will make sense.

Somedays, you are my soul and
it's your ear I want to hug most.
(A testament--not much better.)

Although, your hands--do save me.
Sometimes their higher purpose is
to idly hold my tired, dripping face.

Many thousand feet above us, perhaps
stars dance ever slowly, unconcerned
their void filled with winking emoticons.


_