Why is it that every drop of rain aches my core as if it's bleeding my soul?
The rain used to be comforting. A lullaby sung by the clouds, a gentle caress that whispered promises of new beginnings. I remember how we once danced under this very sky, our laughter rising with the storm, the world forgotten in the rhythm of our steps. Each drop felt like a soft kiss from the heavens, sealing the moments of joy, warmth, and love we shared. Now, the rain feels different - sharp, painful, almost suffocating. It doesn't wash away my grief; instead, it soaks me in it, drenching every inch of my being in the unbearable weight of betrayal.
Each raindrop feels like a tear I can't cry, as if the sky is weeping for me because my eyes have grown too dry, too tired to shed another. I stand there, exposed to the cold wind and relentless downpour, and I wonder - when did rain start feeling like this? Like a thousand tiny knives slicing through my skin, through my heart, bleeding out every memory, every hope, every moment of the life I thought was mine.
The day you told me the truth, it was raining too. It seems fitting now, as if the universe knew that nothing would ever be the same, as if it had prepared for the storm long before I even saw the clouds gathering. I remember your face, so calm, so detached, while mine crumbled. You spoke the words with such ease, like they meant nothing. Like *we* meant nothing. How is it possible to shatter sixteen years of love in just a few words? I still hear your voice in the silence that follows the rain, echoing in the empty spaces you left behind.
I didn't scream. I didn't break down the way I thought I would. Instead, I felt hollow, like the rain had already washed away everything inside me before I even had the chance to feel it. But now, it's different. Now, every raindrop feels like it's reminding me of what's gone. Each one drips down my skin, not with the warmth of our shared moments, but with the coldness of loss, of abandonment, of a future that never will be.
We had made promises, didn't we? We had mapped out our tomorrows together, every one of them filled with dreams and plans, with growing old side by side. And yet, here I stand alone, beneath the same rain, but without you. The tomorrows we once imagined now lay shattered at my feet, like broken glass reflecting the remnants of what was once whole. I thought love was unbreakable, that our bond was stronger than anything. But I was wrong. It turns out love is fragile, vulnerable to the cracks that form in silence, to the deceit that festers when no one is looking.
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the rain, but it's futile. It keeps coming, relentless, unforgiving. Just like the memories of us. No matter how hard I try to escape, it finds me. Every quiet moment, every stolen glance at the world outside, the rain is always there, reminding me of what I lost. What you took from me.
But maybe, just maybe, the rain is more than a reminder of pain. Maybe it's a test - a way to see if I can survive the storm. If I can let it bleed out all the hurt, the betrayal, the shattered dreams, then maybe I can heal. Maybe I can stand beneath the rain one day and feel it as I used to. Not as the tears of a broken soul, but as the soft, hopeful promise of something new.
Until then, I remain here, in the bleeding rain, mourning the love left behind. The love that was never meant to last.