King of the Starved

Chill her to the brim of her bones,
escape those bewildered eyes,
fall heart first into the run,
like the wolf falls prey to the moon,
and the stars give way to the night,
meet yourself at dusk and learn the mistake of the desperate,
the pleading whines of the deprived,
the wailing of the lost.

Leave like the green of new seasons,
burn like the fire of warm conversations,
and discover the breeze of new freedoms.