The Hidden Journal

Not every truth needs to be spoken.
Some are felt —
quietly, completely,
in the way skin meets skin,
or how stillness fills the space between two breaths.

───

Touch speaks in a language older than words.
It doesn’t ask.
It remembers.

───

A hand on the back,
a slow exhale,
a pause that says stay.
All of it means I see you
without needing to explain how.

───

I used to chase understanding —
to be known in detail,
to be described perfectly.
But now I think love is simpler than that.
It’s the warmth that lingers after goodbye.
It’s the pulse that steadies when someone’s near.

───

Some connections don’t need clarity.
They need presence —
a quiet “I’m here,”
spoken in the body’s oldest tongue.

— Desiree