Live-Load

[Verse 1]
(A cappella)
The ceiling fan ticks in one-twenty beats
I know your sock drawer by the sound it makes on the cleats
(Music enters)
The kettle screams a half-tone sharp at dawn
The landlord used a cheap laminate on the lawn
Of your new living room, the one I used to own
I trace the water stains, a map of all you’ve grown

[Chorus]
You're just the joist and beam above my head
A life I learned from everything unsaid
This whole house breathes against the winter salt
And I'm measuring the shear-load of your fault

[Verse 2]
Heard the wine glass break on Tuesday, then the hush
The make-up quiet, the alluvial rush
Of the shower running for an hour after ten
Then the low grain of his voice, promising again
"It's just the pressure, hon," a buckled, mitered plea
As if the Halifax fog was his to decree

[Chorus]
You're just the joist and beam above my head
A life I learned from everything unsaid
This whole house breathes against the winter salt
And I'm measuring the shear-load of your fault

[Bridge]
I left a single screw, set proud, inside the wall
Behind the kitchen outlet, third one in the hall
A little steel confession, a thing I couldn't face
To hold the final portrait I could never place

[Outro]
Tonight the floor is still. It's just the ticking fan.
One constant, perfect, dead-load on the span.