Comfort is She.

Comfort …

Comfort is the coolness of the wet sand beneath my feet as I inch closer to the waves lapping the shore.

It is the cool breeze teasing my locs as I look out towards the sunset.

It is the peace I find in the togetherness of the flock of birds above my head.

It is the sweetness of the nostalgia that over comes me when I think of her warm kisses and arm across my waist when we last shared a moment like this together.

Comfort…

Comfort is the safety of my warm, freshly cleaned comforter and sheets.

It is the sun playfully peeking through the blinds, kissing my forehead softly to say good morning.

It is the aromas of fresh scones in the oven and light crackle of eggs in the skillet.

It is the faint laughter of souls I so deeply entrust and care for patiently waiting for my arrival at the living room table.

It is the sound of freshly squeezed orange juice being poured into my well-loved glass.

It is the slight creaking of my wooden floors as I tiptoe to the shower .

It is the steady stream of water coming out of the shower head and the tranquility that washes over me .

It is joining my special souls to feast.

Comfort…

Comfort is the whirring of the expresso machine, with whom I have a love-hate relationship, brewing my evening cup of joe.

It is the heart I trace out in the foam on top to fill the cup with more love .

It is the ledge I have entrusted with my deepest sentiments situated by the window that has gone undisturbed since I last tucked away to escape into the fictional realm.

It is the warmth of my favorite throw.

Comfort …

Comfort is the warmth of eggnog and the sting of papa’s aged cognac at the back of my throat.

Comfort …

Comfort is the safe place within my mind that I retreat to when I put on my favorite songs.

Comfort…

Comfort is the vivid daydreams I sporadically have of her and I laughing over a slice of freshly made pizza on a cobble stone road in Italy and brushing past the curious hanging vines in Bali .

It is envisioning myself at various stages of accomplishment and being able to share those moments with the souls who have loved me timelessly.

Comfort.. .

Comfort is soft guitar strokes and fingers snapping as a soft voice cooes eloquently written poetry into a mic a once jaded mic.

It is dancing slowly under the moonlight while smelling her t-shirt and feeling my steps fall in line with hers.

It is resting my head against her chest and feeling her heart beat until, slowly but surely, the pace of my own heart is in beating in unison with hers.

Comfort.. .

Comfort is the sound of soft enchanting melodies playing in the background, sage smoldering away as I bring my palms together close to my heart.

It is a slow yet steady jog while the sun is rising.

It is mastering another near impossible yoga stance and putting a check beside another small victory.

Comfort…

Comfort is holding hands with a young one from another world who is facing hardship I cannot begin to relate to but finding morsels of peace in trying to make each moment I am with them count and promising to fight for a better world for them until my dying breath.

Comfort…

Comfort is subjective and could be underrated. However, comfort is a means to an end even on my darkest days.

Comfort..?

I know her well. Comfort is she and she is me.