The adaptive abilities of the human body
allowed the crescents of my feet to feel warm
underneath the black and white comforter
that was chilled with the post-rain cool of
the night that seeped through the frosted
window. However, no matter the previous
warmth, a single rustle of the sheets or
tossing of my toes left them feeling
more like miniature icicles dangling from
the ceiling of a crystallized cave than
appendages tacked onto my foot.
So I was left to lie down, facing away
from the unimportant reality tv on the
practically fluorescent screen, and wait
for a newfound sense of comfort underneath
the cold, ironically named blanket that
encased my corpse. It was difficult at first,
for I yearned for the sense of safety I
unknowingly felt once the reflex kicked in,
for a warmth only possible with time.
I reminisced, but still remained hopeful
for the heat that was to come.

*February 6, 2014 11:07:38 PM