Ghosts (revision 3)

[Charlesjoseph]

Here is a revised version using some of the fantastic advice given,
Thank you for the help, thus far and I'd really appreciate your feedback once again.
Thanks in advance!

*revision 1*

The street lamp blinks some light, dies, then blinks again.
Trapped inside the room, a moth pares its wings
on the glass, falls to the windowsill, then does it again.
My eyelids do the same.

I remember his mouth;
how the ghosts under his tongue
slid through the gaps of his teeth,
found mine, stayed there.
And the birds behind our eyes
drank too much to leave. ( i love everything from here up great work!)

He told me there's a life of everything,
somewhere else; one that isn't made of feathers.
I'd be the flayed moth that made it through the glass,
He, the sun, and my guts would be warmed under him. ( I love the lines i bolded perhaps a good ending)

(I get lost in the last verse. Please clarify what are you trying to say here? If i'm going to give advice I want to understand what your trying to say first instead of giving blunt feedback. Fill me in and then i'll give you my two cents.) Also this is really good and they should move it to mild critique.
Chazz

*original*
Dark settles on the walls, the street lamp blinks some
light, then dies, then blinks again. A moth- stuck inside
the room- pares its wings on the glass, falls to the
windowsill, then does it again. My eyelids do the same.

I remember his mouth; how the ghosts under
his tongue slid through the cracks of his teeth,
found mine, stayed there. And the birds at the
backs of our eyes drank too much to leave.

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.