Can you still hear me

in the pitter-patter of raindrops?

Or am I lost among the din

such small things can create?

Maybe each raindrop is like me,

completely silenced on her own-

smothered by things greater in size.

Only leaving a small mark

on the worn concrete pavement

as it splatters to the ground

fading away fast,

but colossal when combined

with others of her kind.

Maybe that twinkle in your eyes

was never meant 

for a mere raindrop.

Maybe that's why you turned them

towards him-

was it because

he was more substantial? 

Was it because

he was equivalent

to a storm, 

sweeping you off your feet,

too fast for you to keep up?

His storm left you on your knees,

and my raindrops were too small

for you to see.

Nothing's good for you, it seems.

And slowly, I watched-

a bystander from afar-

as the storm turned you

into nothingness,

and you dissolved into a puddle

fed by the rain.

Look at how things changed.

The storm never lost

its power,

continuing to rage,

too substantial for you

to contain.

Do you wish you stuck

with my puddle of raindrops

instead?

You seem to have become one

yourself.

Small and insignificant,

disappearing quick.

But can't less be more?

Can't a raindrop

overpower

a storm?

No.

It cannot.

You know that, though.

But you do know

Raindrops can love better

than a battle-hardened storm.

Cool against your scarred skin,

making you look up

in wonder.

I see the twinkle

return to your eyes

as they light in realization

at the beauty

of a mere raindrop.