Tears in Heaven

The rain pours down, battering the cold glass on her bedroom window. A slowly dying candle illuminates her tired face as she sits by the glass, watching the torrents. A draught sweeps through her abode of solitude, raising goose bumps on her frail arms. 
She is beautiful. He used to tell her that. That among many other things; he loved her, he’d never leave her, he couldn’t live without her. Words that, at the time, made her spirit soar like an eagle in the sky. Now, they lay fragmented beneath her feet. Empty words, emptier promises. People always leave.
She lost hope a long time ago. Life is kind to the sinners and devils of the world and they run free, delighting in their trickery and evil ways. Sadly, it is always the pure souls like her who are left behind, battered and bruised. 
She has hidden all her pain with easy. Smile after smile, laugh after laugh and day after day survived in a masquerade of secrecy shield the horror of what actually tears her soul to shreds. With its taunting face and evil eyes, its violent predators lurking in the day and night, waiting to plunge their claws into the flesh of the defenceless who, being as gentle as they are, do not fight back. 
She watches as the rain continues to beat down, thoughts of loves lost and heartache found reverberate around her head like static feedback. The candle, the only source of light in the room, is down to the last inches of its life. The wind whispers through and with a small breath, extinguishes the candle and the one sliver of hope that held her soul together. 
She breaks. Weeping in sorrow as the backlog of emotions suppressed surge through her body, racking it with spasms of bitter sadness. A tear for every lie, a cry for every betrayal. She lets it all out, purging her heart of every wound that she bandaged and every tear that she fixed. In that little room, the sobs echo and dissipate into the air, heavy with sadness. No one but the ragdoll on the floor next to her knows she ever cried, her tears falling onto the doll’s perpetually happy face, making it seem as if it was crying too. 
And yet, as always, she isn’t heard. 
The little tears flow silently; drowned, by the sound of the rain.