Map of Damp

Light catches a ring—

a brownish halo cracking

into peeling paint.

It’s a quiet shape,

soft edges blurred by dust,

telling a slow story

no one wants to read.

I trace its spread,

a map of something leaking,

something left forgotten

in the weight of the ceiling.

The plaster bows, tired,

bowed by time and silence,

the stain a stubborn shadow

that won’t let go,

not yet.