She looks through the side.
The side of her eyes.
She looks through the spokes.
She spies.
She spies me.
Throuh half open eyes.
Her attention is fixed.
Right on me.
She almost looks.
Right through me.
She sees through walls.
She sees through all.
To get a glimpse.
Of the inner me.
She succeeds of course.
She cuts me through.
To the core.
And while I squirm.
And while I moan.
I love every second.
I savour every gaze.
She looks through the side.
The side of her eyes.
She looks through the spokes.
She spies.
I am Timi
Coppinger Row, Dublin, 2015