You Are Not the Ghost of Their Touch

The house is quiet now, but your skin still remembers the weight of a hand that let go hours ago. It lingers like a ghost limb, a phantom pressure that convinces you the touch is still happening, or that its absence is a physical wound.

In the watch of this night, the silence feels heavy because you are holding onto a sensation that has already passed. But listen — the light within you is not bound by what the body felt or what the memory insists is true.

There is a presence inside you that no human hand can place there, and no human hand can take away. When your heart condemns you for still feeling it, know this: the light is greater than your heart's echoing.

It sees the whole truth, including the part of you that is already free. You are not the ghost of their touch.

You are the living home of a love that never lets go.