Synchronism, a difficult bridge to find

She writes to me about the new exoplanet with water and maybe life: "God only toys us around, I do not know what to believe".
It is unimportant, I write back. Only purr in God's arms.
No, she writes back. I cannot. I feel a toy.

Kiss me, love me, just as I love you, I think while I kiss, love and thirst.
Sometimes it happens. Synchronism, sometimes. Completion.
But sometimes it does not. We, toys. We unloved. We.

Close your eyes, purr.
And sometimes one cannot.