♟️Rain on the Empty Board♟️ I count the cracks in the windowpane, wish the…

♟️Rain on the Empty Board♟️

I count the cracks in the windowpane,
wish the sky would break like old regret—
not a storm, just rain that stays,
long enough to match the pace
of tears I will not let fall yet.

I laid the pieces out at noon,
pawns in line, knights ready to ride.
Today the board feels too wide,
every move a choice I hide,
every win feels like a lie.

They say crying shows softness, shows lack—
so I hold it behind my teeth,
breathe slow, push the feeling back,
pretend the ache is just a crack
in wood, not in the heart beneath.

Sometimes when the world goes quiet,
I let one tear slip past the guard—
call it dust, call it tired eyes,
blame the light, blame the overcast skies,
say it’s nothing, nothing hard.

What a foolish, heavy thing:
to hurt so deep you cannot name it,
to keep singing when the throat stings,
to carry all the unsaid things
like a king who lost his game.

So let the rain come slow and thin,
fall soft enough to cover sound.
I don’t need it to wash clean—
just to stand where it has been,
and weep without a soul around
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