Cold

I'm cold,
but never can I seem
to make a reaction
find an attraction
something like a sunbeam.
Never a blanket,
a heater,
a friend,
will come at my bidding,
though I can pretend.
I'd have to get up,
but because I am freezing
that's not a thought that I find most appeasing.
even now, with this thought in my head,
I'm choosing to just write a poem instead.
oh woe is me, woe is me,
why must I choose to be so fucking lazy?