You Are Starving
Life is cold, contrary
to what they told us.
Life is not warm.
It seeps into the bone,
making you shudder
as you try to refuse it.
The dark is warm,
closer to a shroud or a blanket
than the light.
Night envelopes the soul comfortably,
unlike day which pierces your sleep
and scorches your retinas.
Conversation and sex become something
bearable and dirty in the sun.
The sun has conquered unfairly.
Help me.

All I want is to see the stars.

••• View More Work By Jacqueline Ostrowicki