There's a moth in my bed

That came in through the window 

Helanded on my flat foot

The top to be exact

He knew of his shape.

Impressions of his shape of beauty

Was implanted inside my head.

 There knew no threcherous beasts. Here 

Is what I truly need.

Of his body language blaring 

Commanded from his tiny head.

He still could not speak wekk simply he could only move

for his was a beautifully black 

butterfly 

Inside the dusty tomb

with foes even underwater 

for feed, in the abyss

days later dissapearance will become 

of beautiful mothtress.