the cold
bites at my feet,
sharp and unrelenting.
the blanket's right there,
just by the bed,
but I'm sprawled out on the floor,
too damn lazy to reach for it.

I could move—
hell, I should—
but my body’s a traitor,
sinking into the grime
of my own apathy.
my mind’s a broken record,
spinning complaints on a loop,
but the flesh doesn’t listen.

it’s the same with this sadness,
this dead weight I’ve carried
for too long.
there are these moments—
fleeting, like the flash of a match—
where I feel a smile
tug at the corners of my mouth,
a muscle memory
of better days.

but then,
I kill it,
put a halt on my lips,
because what’s the point?
I could smile, sure,
but who am I fooling?
depression wraps around me
like that damn blanket—
too close,
too heavy,
suffocating any spark of joy.

so I lie here,
cold and numb,
my body as still
as my soul,
wondering why I even bother
to think about happiness,
when misery’s
the only thing that feels real.

© reddragonfly