She made her home in a hundred different people-
Inside the desert of her heart
A brawl of sorts
It didn't much matter the type
Just as long as they were living
Perhaps to capture even the tiniest of thread-
Of what it felt like to encompass the sensation
Of the lines that our nerves dance along in the presence of a warm touch
Only-
As the heightened flight began to cripple in gravity
She was left in hunger-
A vulture
Devouring the living
Only to continue walking beside them
(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro