Of cozy places

It's cold in here, but I can feel comfort in the warmth inside my jacket, feeling my chest folded in heat. My hands are freezing, though. I could try landing them on my warm face and exchange temperatures with it, but soon my hands will freeze again.

I wish I had a friend who could show up at the door right now and hug me. I wish I had someone willing to exchange temperatures with me, someone who could lend me a little more warmth. Just a shoulder where I could find some rest.

I miss my cozy bed. I've been in love with it in the last few days. They're great lovers, beds. They are always there, they're always glad to make me feel comfortable. I like how they my maintain my heat, specially how it allows me to curl up and focus on the heat my body is producing. Amazing thing, life and heat.

I dream of comfortable places. I constantly feel like longing to be alone in a dark, silent room fully warmed by a wood-fired oven. Embers and flames lighting the room eerily. And distract myself with the taste of the bittersweet smell of burned wood and stinking smoke. I like thinking that whatever is going on outside, a savage windstorm or a freezing rain, it's bound to stay outside.

But sometimes I feel cheating by seeking warmth. Maybe I should try wearing off my jacket and taste the cold hurting my skin acutely. This physical pain might distract myself a little from this abstract pain I can't get rid of.

Maybe there's somebody out there in the cold who could enjoy the warmth of my place. I could go out and look for them, and we could drink some hot, spicy soup, and talk all night long...