Cold, Cold Room

In a cold, cold room my heart still beats -- slowly.

The snow touches my skin and it feels like a most intense caress.

I can barely breathe, I can barely think, I can barely manage to approach the door, touch its knob and be brave enough to go to the hot summer awaiting outside.

The snow keeps covering me and I stop feeling my fingers -- they stop moving. I stop caring.

Numbness in my soul and in my body -- This is the very moment I decide whether I save myself or not, but I already chose my path a verse ago.

Words are getting harder to type. I'm getting slower.

Writing is hard.

Thinking is harder.

Let snow cover me.

Let snow live.

It's a cold, cold room.