Kamikaze Raindrops

I follow the raindrops with my eyes.
    One drips down from your hair, slick on your forehead, which I ran my fingers through not a day ago.
Another slides down your cheek, gathering the magenta grease of a lipstick not mine.
    Still another splashes against your lips, opening to tell me you're just not who you used to be.
I see drops fly from the muddy grass, kicked up by your retreating feet.
   
I follow the raindrops with my eyes.
    One slips down the length of my arm, falling upon my hands which are trembling at my sides.
Another leaks from my soaked eyelashes, joining its brethren on the ground.
    Still another dashes against my knee, bending against my will, depriving me of support.
I see drops fly from the muddy grass, thrown up by my senseless collapse.

I follow the raindrops with my eyes.
    Their kamikaze drop from the broiling clouds above mimics my mood.
If I could only stand, I'd follow the raindrops with more than my eyes.