Answer:
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
There are two meanings to me. With one I may need to be broken, with the other I hold on. My favorite characteristic is my charming dimple.
Long and slinky like a trout, never sings till it's guts come out.
Where humans breath liquid?
Do you know what you can hold without ever touching it?
I go up and never come down no matter how hard you wish. As I get higher, more wrinkles crawl on to the face. What am I?