(no subject)

[sallybeatle]

I took an air-rifle,
shot a magpie to the ground
and it died without a sound.
Your skin so pale against the fallen Autumn leaves
and no-one saw us but the trees.
Yeah, the trees,
those useless trees
produce the air that I am breathing.
Yeah, the trees,
those useless trees;
they never said that you were leaving.
I carved your name with a heart just up above
now swollen,
distorted,
unrecognisable;
like our love.
The smell of leaf mould
the sweetness of decay
are the incense at the funeral procession
here, today.
In the trees,
those useless trees
You try to shape the world to what you want the world to be.
Carving your name a thousand times won't bring you back to me.
Oh no, no I might as well go
and tell it to the trees.