The Rain That Remembers Your Name

The rain falls softly tonight,
carrying a quiet echo of every moment
I tried to forget you
and failed.

My coffee grows cold on the table,
like the promises we never finished,
like the words I swallowed
instead of saying
“I miss you more than yesterday.”

In this lonely night,
the wind writes your name
on the window of my memory—
a place I never learned to lock,
no matter how many storms
passed through me.

Silence sits beside me,
gentle but heavy,
as if it knows
that missing someone
is the kind of ache
that doesn’t shout—
it lingers.
It breathes.
It lives inside the spaces
you left behind.

The rain slows down,
but my longing doesn’t.
The street lights dim,
but your shadow stays.
The world sleeps,
but my heart stays awake
searching for you
in every sound the night refuses to keep.

Maybe you won’t return.
Maybe the door has closed quietly,
without goodbye.
But still…
when the rain falls,
I hear it—
the soft whisper
of a memory
that still remembers
your name.