Indulgence

I have always found

comfort in the dead

of night.

unlike afternoon,

it does not fail

to understand my worries,

but knows my pains,

relates to my darknesses,

justifies my every shift.

 

At midnight,

I push my bed up to my window

and indulge in the vast blankness

of a starless sky.

I melt my fingertips into the glass

and let the coldness seep

through my veins,

as if pushed by a syringe,

 

and for a brief secondĀ¾

life feels fresh.

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