Soaked

The rain caught me off guard.

My clothes stuck to me, hard,

cold and dark from the water.

I stood in the downpour,

weighed down. The fabric clung

to my skin. I could have run

home, but I walked instead,

dragging the heaviness ahead

of me with each step.

The cold seeping in. No prep

for this. Just the weight

of everything soaked, too late

to dry. At home I peeled

the clothes off. How they revealed

themselves reluctantly, clinging,

the cold still spreading, ringing

through me even now, hours after.

The weight is still here. No laughter

can shake it. The memory

of that cold. It's part of me.