Heather Moczydlowski's speaker is lost in a black void and slowly realizes it isn't frightening. It feels warm, even seductive, like a safe place to hide. The poem reads as a picture of emotional withdrawal: the speaker seems to have shut out feeling because feeling can mean pain. "Color" stands for emotion and connection, while the black is a comfortable numbness that is also a "cage I made for myself."
The turning point comes with a small white speck, a lone star in a sky with no others. It brings hope, but up close it looks crimson, which suggests that reaching out could mean getting hurt. The speaker's questions pile up, showing real doubt about trusting anyone again. In the end, the speaker reaches out hesitantly and finds the white is a hand, attached to someone smiling. The mood moves from eerie calm to tension and then to a fragile, uncertain relief. The last line, "Did I make the right choice?", leaves that hope unsettled.