After the rain comes the calm. We spent a lot of time under a storm that wet our house and water does not stop falling.

Wow... it's a great, deep poem... It reminds me of the winter season in the forgotten villages of Venezuela, when the rain leaves us in the open air of our own homeless. These verses adequately reflect the sense of vulnerability, there is nothing to say, only the rain must speak: 
"It has been said so much of this tense calm,
that nothing else else remains to be said.
The words ran out
and there is only the silence of what has already been said."

I like the way your poem plays with the rain, the sheets, and the intimacy of the room; it feels like everything is gently rubbing against one's body.

The rain washes it all away; then there's silence, like the silence or the weariness after a long time of plight.

Intense, @zeleiracordero.