Unseen Leaks

Brewing coffee, I saw it, a dark little stain,

spreading across the ceiling like ink on a page,

a story of leaks we don’t want to explain,

as if hiding the damage could somehow assuage.

That drip tracing lines like a tear down a wall,

a silent confession of problems concealed,

yet here it persists, as the shadows enthrall,

reminding me always, what’s broken is revealed.

So I sit with my coffee, the stain at my gaze,

a reminder of truth that can’t stay out of sight,

that beneath every surface, the messiness stays—

and maybe that’s beauty, in the soft fading light.