Cold

I’m cold in winter,
And I’m cold in summer too.
So cold that fingernails unpainted
Are routinely tinged
A ghostly blue.
I sit and shuffle,
Bones uncushioned,
Causing pain.
I drop my pen,
Spill my black coffee,
Once again.
You think I’ve chosen,
Want to be this way,
With hair that falls in clumps
And skin that’s cold and grey.
But though it looks
Like change is easy,
Something I could do,
I will not, cannot
Though I’ll try for you.