Laid to the tree,
Which shivers with every blow,
A few leaves shimmying down
Before their time,
Their green already starting brown,
Another slash of a knife
Across the cords of the hawser
That binds us in life and love,
An ominous cracking creak
As our hulls inch further apart,
Every forgotten little thing
That means nothing to you
Is a wedge, and even those
That do matter? the forgetting
Doesn't matter to you,
And this is why we are
Diverging and inexorably parting,
Because all you see is you,
Your sole perspective is viewed from you,
No empathy or care,
And when the tree falls,
The moorings part,
And you find yourself alone
On a lonely sea,
I doubt you will understand
But sure as eggs is eggs,
I know you'll say
It's my fault.
