Ghosts (revision 3)

[billy]

hi violet, i see you left feedback elsewhere :J:
i'm presuming from the moth that it didn't last (in the poem) and like the moth's wings became frayed and worn. i think it's a strong original poem about promises and the frailty of them. i did read your ideas but think i saw something else/more. the poem overall has a dark feel to it, even deathly.
thanks for the read.

Dark settles on the walls, the street lamp blinks some
light, then dies, then blinks again. A moth- stuck inside i like the image the enjambment leads to in the next line.
the room- pares its wings on the glass, falls to the for me the enjambment could be better worked on this line. a suggestion would be to move something up, or move something down.
windowsill, then does it again. My eyelids do the same.

I remember his mouth; how the ghosts under is [I remember his mouth;] needed? we know for the rest of the words it's his mouth.
his tongue slid through the cracks of his teeth, would over work better than through?
found mine, stayed there. And the birds at the
backs of our eyes drank too much to leave. some good images in your metaphor.

He told me there's a life of everything, somewhere
else; one that isn't made of feathers or concrete.
I'd be the flayed moth that made it through the glass,
He, the sun, and my guts would be warmed under him.