streetlight flickers,
and somewhere, sandals kiss puddles
I didn’t bring an umbrella,
but maybe I wanted to feel this on my skin
drip drop syncopation—
the sky knows how to groove
humidity curling my hair like memories
sticky, sudden, soft
a laugh from the rooftop,
maybe it’s you, maybe just the wind
either way, it fits
this scene doesn’t need a script
we weren’t supposed to talk again
but isn’t rain a kind of excuse?
I write your name in the fogged glass of a taxi
and let it melt like mango on tongue
don’t call,
just send me that old playlist
you know, the one with that trumpet solo
that feels like we’re still dancing
even if we never were
and somewhere, sandals kiss puddles
I didn’t bring an umbrella,
but maybe I wanted to feel this on my skin
drip drop syncopation—
the sky knows how to groove
humidity curling my hair like memories
sticky, sudden, soft
a laugh from the rooftop,
maybe it’s you, maybe just the wind
either way, it fits
this scene doesn’t need a script
we weren’t supposed to talk again
but isn’t rain a kind of excuse?
I write your name in the fogged glass of a taxi
and let it melt like mango on tongue
don’t call,
just send me that old playlist
you know, the one with that trumpet solo
that feels like we’re still dancing
even if we never were