Soft Things Stay Longer
a quiet place to rest
There are some songs that don’t ask anything from you.
They don’t want your backstory.
They don’t want your growth arc.
They don’t need you to explain what you’ve been through.
They just sit with you.
They don’t rush.
They don’t resolve.
They don’t try to fix the ache they stir.
Some songs don’t heal you.
They just make room for what never left.
They play
like they trust you’ll recognize yourself somewhere inside the quiet.
I first heard it on a walk through the forest, alone.
Leaves underfoot.
No one around.
I let it loop until the path felt different coming back.
You don’t listen when you’re trying to feel better.
You listen when you’re letting yourself feel what’s already there.
Late nights.
Quiet walks.
Rooms lit by lamps instead of ceilings.
The kind of moments where nothing is happening,
and everything is being remembered.
Some things don’t fade.
They wait until you’re quiet enough to hear them.
Some things stay with us not because they’re dramatic,
but because they’re gentle enough to survive us.
That sound.
That version of you.
That feeling you don’t need to name.
Soft things stay longer.
If you’re still here,
you already know why you stayed.
// Scorpio Veil