The Rain Carries What I Cannot Say

The first drop falls,

and I think it is my own tear.

But the sky weeps with me,

softly, endlessly—

a companion for the words

I cannot release.

I walk under the storm,

no umbrella,

letting the water soak me whole.

Every raindrop writes on my skin,

letters I never dared send,

confessions buried in silence.

The rain does not ask questions.

It does not judge my trembling hands

or the cracks in my voice.

It carries everything away—

the grief, the guilt, the weight.

And when it ends,

the world smells of earth and beginnings.

I too, feel lighter,

like a page washed clean.

Maybe that is healing:

not erasing the pain,

but letting the rain

speak what I never could.

Thanks for Reading.💜💜💜