…some are for feelings

There are nights like this.
When everything seems to stop.
The city breathes softer, people sleep deeper, and thoughts get louder.

You lie still, staring at the ceiling, and inside — silence where suddenly you hear yourself.
Not loud. But real.

And you don’t remember what was important —
you remember what was alive.
The way someone once touched your back.
The way you laughed in the dark, whispering so the night wouldn't wake.
The way you wished morning never came.

You’re not sad. Just a little warm. And a little tender.
As if someone once touched your soul,
and you forgot to say how much it meant.

These nights aren’t for sleeping.
They’re for memories that never left.
For feelings that come back alive.
For thoughts that place someone beside you again,
someone who wasn’t just random.

And maybe it’s long gone,
but your body remembers.
Your heart too, strangely enough.

On nights like this, you don’t want words.
You want presence.
Quiet. Real. True.

Not to be saved.
Just… to be.
No promises. No masks. No walls.

Just be. And that — is already enough.