Faded Bloom

A sagging plastic curtain,

the floral print chipped and peeling.

Edges curl, colors smudged like old memories,

stains pooling where water clings too long.

Mold creeps in soft spots,

a darkened patch near the bottom,

quiet decay in the steam.

The folds hang heavy,

bent under their own damp weight,

wrinkles folding over themselves.

I reach out, finger tracing

the cracked petal—

a slow erasing in the bathroom’s gray light,

a bloom that’s fading, but still there.