It's raining and it's all I can hear.
I wish you were here.
I wish you understood.
It's raining here, it is all that I can hear.

Satiating my desire for serenity without having to abandon my mortal coil. This rain falls calmly, it doesn't look to erase anything. Only to replenish.

I wrote to you of my wrongs. Perhaps the rain bled my letter. The quill translated so many of my thoughts that night.
The black sweat of a bottle, traced feelings upon parchment. Erased by this cursed rain. I am held to its will and it to mine.