Entertained By An Empty Room

Each time that the rain falls, No matter the day, week, month, I see drops hopping from leaf to leaf and the cold wind gracing my windows; the sun always struggles to fight its way through the clouds, and I'm lying on my side waiting. The sheets become slightly crinkled, as they were, and the blanket covers me, as I lied, so deep in thought. I wanted to go outside, look to the sky for any planes that could tell me if they've seen you around. I see my hands clutching my phone, (yes, as they were), waiting for it to ring... waiting for, well, anything. any sound... I must have thought about you a million times, and you must have seen a text for every thought. It's as if I'm there, at the mere sound of the thunder; The sight of the overcast on a weekday, Seeing everything, hearing everything, feeling everything. I wanted you to land so that you could go back to telling me that you love me, in a million tiny, subtle ways, and I could go back to withholding myself from loving you too much, and scaring you away - I couldn't stop myself in your absence. I can feel the flutters... I can feel the longing... I feel as if I am waiting, but in that memory, there was your message - the plane made an excellent land, and now, in the lens, is a fictional plane that never will. I wish I believed that you cowered at the sight of the rain, just as I do.