a frigid room resting on a divited plane

the pens in my room
are like dry ice
and my bed the
softest coffin

i lay down among
the velvet and
stare longingly
at my desk
and feel the cold
reach at me

and when the sun
touches the floor
it even is cold at
first,
but you brought me
lunch

your smiling face

i started to feel
the warmth again
and the velvet
went back
to cotton.

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