Burning Envelope

With hair that reflects the white moonlight
Can't you see it's you I'm living for?
With eyes like miniature stars
And a mind full of cheap cliched metaphors

Who are you pining after now
A singer, actor, killer, or celebrity
Or a guy with a car and a lot of friends
Who have fake IDs and love to party

Make yourself some food and leave the light on for me
I won't get out of bed until late
Leave me a note about how you slept last night
And about the dreams you had about fate

The Grim Reaper was less than a foot behind you
But you woke up just in time to see me
Coming to bed with spilled alcohol
And ink all over my jeans

My hands are covered in unwritten words
Discarded on the impotent path
To find a way to describe you
Without engaging your wrath

All I could get was the sound of a bird
And an empty jar with no smell
A stinking shard of folded paper
A letter that said "what the hell"