How did I measure my comfort before?
I needed to see your rosy cheeks
Holding up your smile, before I sat,
So, I could have a sense of security.
The sound of comfort was:
The sound of your voice booming on the phone when you laughed.
The taste of comfort was:
The taste of orange juice with you at the cafe.
The touch of comfort was:
Your warm hand on my shoulder, reminding me it would be ok.
The smell of comfort was:
Together burning food in the kitchen.
The sight of comfort was:
A worn and faded couch cushion, where we could sink into—and stay
there for hours, talking about nothing.
However, now I realize one thing…
Comfort is short-lived and transient.
Now you’re gone, so I measure my comfort:
By holding onto a photo of your smile,
Your cheeks, still plump, but now they’re gray.
So, I have no sense of security.
For the sound of comfort is:
Your voice in a receiver as I replay a video on my phone.
For the taste of comfort is:
The silent tears that pool at the edge of my lip.
For the touch of comfort is:
The cold sensation I get when I hug the hoodie you gave me.
For the smell of comfort is:
A stubborn scent lingering from your sweet aroma.
For the sight of comfort is:
A worn and faded couch cushion, where I sink into—and stay there for
hours remembering the happy times you gave me… friend.
About the Creator
Edy Zoo
Edy Zoo is an author who writes about social subjects. He contributes to the ever-growing library of social critics.
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis7 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.