Matrimony

You and I built empty things empty sounds that drip, dripped down bathroom sinks Gone stale in damp mountains of towels that sulked resentfully behind doors I listened to the tick, tick of a soundless clock that moved up and down with our childrens' breath Your 3 AM skin dark and warm in your nest While I am inanimate like stone You and I made empty things that lived in corners, in dark, dark coffee stained surrender And I never cease to wonder How deep the cellar stairs went down How deep, deep and tender.