Copper Edges Bleed

Rain peels the roof like old skin,

copper ribbons folded tight,

a bitter green where time has pressed

its slow, relentless bite.

A leaflet slaps my cheek,

soggy paper, torn and thin—

the taste of rust in every drop

that slides beneath my skin.

Sharp ridges crack and fold,

a silent rot beneath the gray,

a skin that no one pats or cares for,

just fading out of day.