173 Degrees

One-hundred and seventy-three degrees
is what I have measured between the
door to that place of comfort and
the screen that is my paper and
the sunshine that once illuminated
me in a time of great distress.

Twenty-four metres, one glass wall,
and a whitewashed barrier are all
that separate me from what I thought
was the warmth that saved me from
the coldness of forever,
where spirits sing praises.

Thirteen days since that terrible afternoon
when I found the Devil lurking under my desk,
smelling of dead flowers and discarded silver,
and lost myself to vice and forgot that
I so wanted to be alive.

You never lost me.