Soft. Soft like my fur blanket. Soft like a warm smile on a bad day. My boyfriend’s hair curls at the sides when it refuses to stay short. It comforts me when I run my fingers through it’s thick layers. It comforts me to hear laughter when I brush it over his eyes. Thick layers like my own. The pieces woven into braids with an exception of the strands that still fly away. The blonde strands that fly away to the black fabric of his sweatshirt. His hair is generous. It has the smell of fresh summer air that makes your eyes close and your lips part.

His hair is as dark as a bear’s. One that goes from being ferocious and protective to a soft teddy bear with its limbs sprawled out in the sunlight.