I used to have a heart when I first wrote

In this cubicle I sit and read
“How to live inside a little house”
Does it matter  if the heart is dead,
If I  have a new kitchen ,but no spouse?

I see a folding desk and chair beside
Floors of marbled vinyl in deep teal
Yet now inside a cubicle resides
My entire body and my soul revealed.

I used to have a heart when I first wrote
I felt it like a pressure in the chest
But now I have none,see I merely float
And go the way the current thinks is best

I’ve handed in my notice,I am done
A cubicle is not  the place  for fun

I