Raindrops by Elizabeth Ayala

Read by Conner Arnold

The worst type of crying—
crying on the inside.
My heart is waiting to rupture.
I have a knot stuck
inside my throat,
and I can’t swallow my saliva.

I can’t smile.
I can’t laugh.
I can’t shed a tear
and if I do, it will be microscopic—
merely visible
by the visions of your memories.

Because baby,
I fell
for you.
I fell for you the exact same way raindrops
plummet from dark skies.

But you left me.

Now
I look behind me as I fall,
to reassure myself that I am
hallucinating,
and that the tears upon my cheeks
are only raindrops
falling from the clear skies.