Drenched in Your Absence

The night you left,
the sky broke open like a wound,
rain falling in quiet confessions
the way my tears refused to stay hidden. 

Every drop against the window
sounded like your voice leaving again,
soft at first,
then echoing through every empty room
my heart still calls home.

I stand in the doorway of what we were,
drenched in sorrow and dread,
watching the storm carry you farther
than memory can reach.

Somewhere between thunder and silence
my hope began to rot,
a fragile thing drowned slowly
in the flood of things you never meant. 

Still, longing lingers
like fog across a ruined morning,
and despair clings to my ribs
the way rain clings to cold glass.

Because loving you
was learning how a storm feels
from the inside

and now every rainfall
sounds like my heart
breaking again.