You said you used to love writing when we were young
but now you sit here in your sadness
putting God under your tongue—
rubbing those prayers into your gums

I couldn't uphold a job and I couldn't afford gold so
I sold my soul to buy you a chalkboard

and with one hand under tongue
in the same writing from when we were young
chalk on your thumb, you wrote—

Salvation never comes
Salvation never comes