Under the fleece, I feel heat. 

The warmth of the fabric enveloping me,

like the warmth of ones lover's arms. 

Under the fleece, I feel secure. 

The layer of protection against the brittle cold. 

The safety of the covers, shielding my skin

from the icey breeze that blows through the air. 

That cover has been stolen.

I no longer feel the warmth, the safety, no. It is not there.

It lies over someone else, providing them heat.

Providing them protection. 

The last of the warmth, disappeared. 

The last of its' protection, dissolved. 

I now sit here, with nothing but the thin layers 

scarcely spread across my skin;

longing again for the endless safety and warmth 

provided by the blanket.