such intent
Savor it
Savor what has been unseen-
Every cloak-and-dagger

Hide behind the undertow so your spying eyes go unearthed  
Laying low close to those who will never know-
Never sense
The taste
of marrow-
of raw ignition inside bones
Or the adrenaline that's expanding your pupils-
Black, hardy vacancies and adaption to space

A neck to grasp
Lips to bite into
Warmth to be felt internally
Far more than physical

Closer to irrational spirituality

(C) Tiffanie Doro