Comfort/Able

On even the softest pillows, existence still aches
Relief remaining a forbidden far-off fantasy
Aloof. Distant. Just so slightly out of reach.

This body, these bones, this supposed thick skin
Rarely, if ever, understand or believe in peace
In charge, a world war of hurt, the spotlight stolen by pain.

The head, sliced open, nerves laid bare to the world
By the sharpest of tools, or gentlest clouds in the sky
So bright, so loud, so often, so … much.

A rare commodity these days, it seems
Comfort begins sneaking into private moments
With hair in hands, on throat, the equator trembles.

One slow glance, a soft but stern tone
The mind empties, pain flows away like lavaCould this be the new way to feel softness? To feel safe?

Fingers trace tattoos like a map searching for treasure
Eyes lock me in place, cannot move, cannot speak
Firm tenderness replacing the infinite envelopment of misery.

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