Beyond Touch
Some connections don’t need hands to hold—
they live in the quiet between heartbeats,
in the way your name
still feels like home
when whispered in my mind.
They don’t fade with time;
they just settle deeper,
like roots that keep growing
even in dry earth.
Sometimes I feel you in small things—
a song,
a scent,
the sudden warmth of the sun
when I wasn’t expecting it.
Maybe that’s what love really is—
not the touch,
but the knowing.
Not the presence,
but the way absence still holds me
like you never left.
