The rain still finds me...

 

—a love letter to memory and moments that linger

“You know it all / You’re my best friend / The morning will come again / Because no darkness, no season / Can last forever.”
—BTS, Spring Day

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There’s a certain kind of silence that only comes with rain.

Not the silence of absence, but the silence of something just beneath the surface—
something trying not to speak, yet unable to stay quiet.

I stood outside today.
No umbrella. No rush.
Just me, and the sky unraveling above like a story I’ve already read a hundred times—
and still don’t understand.

The rain came softly, not like a storm, but like a memory.
It touched me the way nostalgia sometimes does—
not all at once, not to break me.
Just enough to remind me I’m still here.
Just enough to remind me you’re not.

There’s a moment, right before I close my eyes, where I feel it.

The water tracing the edge of my jaw,
lingering in the dip of my collarbone.
It feels like your fingers—
your breath—
your presence stitched into the rhythm of the weather.

And I think of how you used to love the rain.
How you said it made the world honest.
That no one can pretend when it’s pouring—
either you run for cover, or you stand still and feel it.

I feel it now.

It’s not just weather.
It’s you.

I hear you in every hush between drops,
in the quiet spaces where your laughter used to live.
And maybe that’s foolish.
Maybe I’m just making ghosts out of water.

But when it rains, I don’t feel alone.
I feel full.
Not with joy, not exactly.
But with the weight of love that lingers.

“Though the flower has wilted, let us smile and say goodbye.”
—BTS, Outro: Her

But I never really said goodbye, did I?

Not when they closed the chapter.
Not when the world moved on.
Not when I stopped saying your name out loud.

The rain is the only place I know how to find you now—
not as the wound,
but as the warmth.
Not as the ache,
but as the echo.

When the sky cries, I listen.
And sometimes, if I’m still enough,
if I let it soak all the way in,
I swear I can feel your hand in mine—
like you never left.

So I stand there, face to the sky,
letting the rain map all the places you once lived in me.

And I stay.

Because sometimes,
the closest I can get to your love
is to let the rain hold me
the way you once did.