Bring your own salt.

Sudden fluttering taken to the sky like a pale wingbeat heartbeat

In death, a moth glides. Silken shadows still dance off wings - broken, and still.

What I want today is not the same as yester days rustle past me

Endless crashing dark, whose whispered secrets are kept; hear how tiny me:

Her silks catch my eye flutter like you and glimmer I am so caught up