I cannot tell you

What to do

​

I only wanted 

What you couldn’t offer 

What was it about you

That made me pursue 

Such a dumb detour 

Down a road 

I’ll have to turn back

Once I reach the dead end 

​

When I’m standing 

At the edge

Of a cliff 

Looking down 

At what could be 

My final moment 

​

When I’m thinking about ending things 

You’re out looking for wedding rings 

​

My mother always told me

Cut off your dead ends 

It makes your hair grow faster 

I should have listened

She's a hair dresser

​

At the kitchen table

I spill some salt 

From the shaker 

I’m not superstitious 

But still I take a pinch

And throw it over my shoulder

The salt has accrued 

And grown into a pillar 

​

I heard the angels 

Beckoning 

I’m not good 

At listening 

​

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