You Deserve Better: The Trees are Leaning
He sits outside overlooking the yard
but he doesn’t see the trees are leaning.
He’s outside
as the morning comes alive
with his newspaper, cigarette and coffee.
He doesn’t want to talk to me.
I sit and stare and wonder why
and I see the trees are leaning.
Later, when the phone rings, he goes outside.
With his friends, he talks.
He’s happy.
He plans.
He laughs.
He doesn’t talk to me like that.
I look past him
and see the trees are leaning.
I still love him.
He is still the best part of me.
But the spirited me,
fun me,
happy me,
free me,
like the trees,
are leaning.
He used to hold my hand,
and he’d hold on tightly.
He used to want to kiss me,
hold me,
touch me,
love me,
and I want to hold on tightly.
I can feel that he doesn’t feel the way he used to feel.
It’s just not the same,
and I can see the trees are leaning.
I don’t stand tall.
I feel so small.
My feelings are least important.
I’m not his partner
his lover
or his friend.
I really don’t know who I am
and I can see the trees are leaning.
How much wind can the trees take?
How long will they stand?
What if the wind blows the other way?
What if he holds my hand?
Does he want to know my dreams and help me make them come true?
What if what’s important to me becomes important to him, too?
I don’t know…
I just don’t know…
I see the trees are leaning.
In the evening, he watches TV
and still doesn’t want to acknowledge me.
I seem to be in his way.
So I look out the window to the trees,
I don’t know what to say.
At night, before bed, he goes outside.
We’ve stopped trying.
There’s no point.
There is no meaning.
It’s took dark.
He can’t see the trees are leaning.
