I’ve worn my blankets to the threads.
Is that why I’m so cold?
Or do I sense the dread of dreads,
Now that I’m getting old?

No matter which; the thing to do
Is buy another one,
But, since my life is almost through,
I’ll soon be needing none.

And so I shiver all night long
And, likewise, all the day.
It isn’t that I think it’s wrong;
It’s just my foolish way.

Besides, it’s not as if I miss
The “warmth” of Morpheus’s kiss.

Photo by Amisha Nakhwa on Unsplash

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