Degrees of Separation

I woke up cold, the air like glass,

the thin blanket a poor defense.

And saw the dial, and knew this pass

meant starting up the old pretense.

That glowing red, it taunts me now,

a tiny enemy in the gloom.

I hate this silent, icy vow

we make inside this chilly room.

My finger hovers, just above

the plastic arrow, ready to strike.

This war of temperature, this love

and hate, we wage it, day and night.