each tuft of fluff
that sprouts from this fabric
shrouding my bent over shoulders
as I cradle this softly glowing screen
and merge my mind with the rhythmic click
of the keys
the rain on the roof outside my window is still audible
Above the melancholy melodies
playing over and over in my headphones
comfort is the safety of regularity
but the excitement of cautious exploration
comfort is the knew the old the everything,
that I feel myself falling into
addicted to the way my soul is plummeting
down down
the wonder is wrapped around me
floating in a serene sea
comfort is eyes-closed falling into your arms
knowing you will lift me up and again,
rest your hand on the top of my head
gentle love
I am still bruised
from hitting my head and laughing it off
comfort is warm broth
trickling down my throat
a hot pattern I can follow in my mind
through my chest
and the sound of sad french songs
with piano playing in the background
comfort is the lapse between escaping fear
and seeking adventure
Comfort
is crying into your t-shirt knowing you will kiss me just as much
with puffy eyes and a sad smile
comfort is the something
in between nothing and what I don't like
comfort
is your eyes
when you smile softly
comfort
is the stained red apron I share with my mother
and the scent of bread that saturates my hands
and bathes me in a warm haze
comfort
is each moment I can find something to love
more than I feel hurt
by each second I spend hating myself.
that sprouts from this fabric
shrouding my bent over shoulders
as I cradle this softly glowing screen
and merge my mind with the rhythmic click
of the keys
the rain on the roof outside my window is still audible
Above the melancholy melodies
playing over and over in my headphones
comfort is the safety of regularity
but the excitement of cautious exploration
comfort is the knew the old the everything,
that I feel myself falling into
addicted to the way my soul is plummeting
down down
the wonder is wrapped around me
floating in a serene sea
comfort is eyes-closed falling into your arms
knowing you will lift me up and again,
rest your hand on the top of my head
gentle love
I am still bruised
from hitting my head and laughing it off
comfort is warm broth
trickling down my throat
a hot pattern I can follow in my mind
through my chest
and the sound of sad french songs
with piano playing in the background
comfort is the lapse between escaping fear
and seeking adventure
Comfort
is crying into your t-shirt knowing you will kiss me just as much
with puffy eyes and a sad smile
comfort is the something
in between nothing and what I don't like
comfort
is your eyes
when you smile softly
comfort
is the stained red apron I share with my mother
and the scent of bread that saturates my hands
and bathes me in a warm haze
comfort
is each moment I can find something to love
more than I feel hurt
by each second I spend hating myself.
- Inkpaw's blog
- Sprout
- Log in or register to post comments
RECENT COMMENTS