I had nothing to say on Christmas day when you threw all your clothes in the snow.
When you burnt your hair, knocked over chairs, I just tried to stay out of your way. But when you fell asleep with blood on your teeth, I got in my car and drove away.
Listen to me, Butterfly, there's only so much wine you can drink in one life and it will never be enough to save you from the bottom of your glass. Where the state highway starts I stopped my car.
I got out and stared up at the stars. As meteors died and shot cross the sky, I thought about your sad, shining eyes.
I came back for my clothes when the sun finally rose but you were still passed out on the floor.