Rainy days

Is it raining where you are? Do you find it impossible to raise your weary head from the pillow as the light reflects off of the clouds in the early hours? I ask because in my story--the one where you can be found permanently in my mind--you are fighting a constant downpour and have been since you cast me from your everyday. I imagine your days gray, nights buried feet below the watery surface and sleep restless. Your memory is me, the good times and nothing else. Please tell me it is so. . . . Nevermind, I do not want to know, if you kill that image, my peace, then I have nothing left but reality, which is that you have transitioned seamlessly into a life that is happy, complete and better without my presence.