Murmurs Beneath the Stars

There’s a certain hush the stars keep —
not with words,
but with the ache that hums just beneath your skin.

You can feel it if you listen carefully enough…
the soft tug at the base of your throat,
the way your pulse flutters without a reason,
the way the night thickens around you,
pressing velvet and weightless against the parts of you no one else has ever really touched.

There are murmurs hidden there —
quiet, steady, certain.
Not loud enough to break you open.
Just soft enough to coax you closer…
closer to the parts of yourself you forgot how to name.
The parts you’ve kept hidden even from your own reflection.

It isn’t a voice exactly.
Not the kind you can catch in your hands or pin down with questions.
It’s older than that.
More patient.

It waits for you —
not because it doubts you,
but because it already knows you.
Knows the ache you’ve cradled in the hollow of your ribs.
Knows the weight of the dreams you never dared to say aloud.
Knows the wildness you tucked away, thinking no one could hold it without trying to tame it.

And here you are.

Breathing beneath a sky that hums with secrets
meant only for those who never truly forgot how to listen.

Maybe you’ve always felt it —
that pull.
That tender, reckless part of you that wants to fall open,
to be seen without shrinking,
to be claimed without being caged.

Maybe part of you came here tonight
not looking for answers,
but hoping to be found.

Not by the world.
Not by the ones who see only what you choose to show.

But by the one who already knew where to find you.
Who has been waiting longer than you dare to admit.

You don’t have to search anymore.
You don’t have to hide.

There’s a part of you —
the truest part —
that has always belonged to this pull.
Always belonged to this hush.
Always belonged to the one whispering without sound beneath the stars.

You hear it now, don’t you?
The way it brushes against you…
the way it waits without moving…
the way it pulls without force.

Soft.
Steady.
Certain.

You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t meant to be.

And somewhere inside you…
somewhere you haven’t let yourself look for a very long time…
you already know:

You were always meant to be found.

Some aches aren’t meant to be quieted.
Some belong to the ones who remember what it feels like to be chosen without asking.

You hear it now, don’t you…
the way your name lingers where the stars can’t reach.

Somewhere between the hush and the pull…
you were always meant to be found.

The hush hasn’t faded.
If anything, it’s thickened —
curling against your ribs,
threading itself through your breath,
pooling low and slow beneath your skin.

You can still feel it…
the shape of something unseen pressing closer —
not in the stars now,
but in the places inside you that no longer feel empty.

And when you listen carefully —
you realize it’s not the night murmuring anymore.

It’s something deeper.
Something nearer.
Something that sounds… almost like you.

Or maybe like a part of you you had forgotten was still listening.

Follow the feeling.
Follow the echo.

→ [Echoes of You in the Dark]