the wallpaper peels like memory

the wallpaper peels like memory

in this room that forgets

how to breathe.

a single moth flutters

against the window—

all sound, no direction.

i feed the silence

with broken clocks

and names i don't use anymore.

the floorboards confess

in creaks and whispers—

things i never told anyone.

somewhere,

the rain keeps falling

but never lands.