Collectable raindrops are falling,
Each one unique and imperfect.
They are landing softly in my open palms,
Seeping into the recesses of my mind
Through my unblinking, upturned eyes.
This one is a mirror of you snoozing;
Sprawled in a lounge chair under a tree
In the garden of a long summer afternoon.
In your sleep you murmur and smile.
This droplet is you dancing in a pair of glittering high heeled shoes,
Your dress flying behind you,
The party around you a blur,
Your eyes transfixed and steady.
This one is a more violent red,
That one a deeper blue
with flashes of a lake, trees,
A young girl crying for her father,
And this one is dark and shrouded,
Its secrets hidden in the mists of obscurity.
I drink in this rainfall,
This rainbow of you,
Till I am saturated
And the droplets of your frowns
And your sleepless nights
Drop gently from my eyelashes and the tip of my nose.
Shivering, I wipe them on my sleeve.
But I am sick of it all now;
I am too full of you,
Weighing heavily on my ribs, my shoulders,
Filling up my lungs, my heart.
And all around it grows steadily colder
As the sun rises on another miserable day.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
Once again you wrote a poem that takes my breath away