Tis of thee

here I am out in the woods
staring at trees
thinking about what I would have done differently

I would have done this
I would have done that

and while staring at these trees
I wonder how this country came to be
and why its pronounced cunt tree
instead of count tree

I try to fall asleep to the sound of a single
falling tree
then begin to remember what she had done

I can't sleep
so I begin to count
something other than sheep

one that cunt
two that cunt
three that cunt

and as I fade away into sleep
I begin to wonder what happens
when someone falls out of love
and when they do
does it even make a sound