Rainwalk Ritual

Streetlights melt into wet pavement,

spilled oil shifting in dark puddles.

I walk slow, alone, the city hushing

its dust and heat beneath the drizzle.

No one else here, just the soft slap

of feet on soaked asphalt,

a world washed clean enough

for me to forget how thirsty it’s been.

The rain pulls at my sleeves,

cool fingers on skin, a quiet invitation.

Tonight, I am just a shadow moving,

a whispered footstep in the dark,

letting the city’s breath catch me.

Here, the rain writes my name

in the blur of fading light,

a secret kept only for the soaked and wandering.