Threadbare

In the kitchen, I sip bitter coffee,

witness to the wallpaper peeling away,

each curl a reminder, a frayed seam,

patterns once vibrant now faded,

a flowered design that’s lost its bloom.

Time wears thin,

as I sit in silence,

a canvas of domestic history,

where life was painted in bright strokes,

but now drips down the wall

in gentle surrender,

a metaphor for memories untold,

a tapestry unraveling with every sip,

I watch,

how fragile we all become,

as life bleeds into the mundane.