Lepidopterophobia

Cloth that moved going down my throat was what it felt like. Or atleast what I know it will feel like. I keep my mouth shut when I see them. Pull my shirt over my nose and ears. Moths and butterflies however big or small, I can’t be near them. Butterflies, they can feel love in way, did you know? Sucking blood, my blood, out of my body with a thin needle. Loving the taste of my human flesh. And moths, attracted to the glow of my phone outside at night. Repeatedly hitting against it. The velvet prick of its wings against my skin. Flecked with an unknown powder. Both. The unpredictable flight pattern. The paper thin wings . Legs and attenae, like thickest hair that moves. Two black eyes that have no ending.