No. 6


If it’s a spell I am under
I’d rather you not break it
For I know no drug
To mimic a trip so fragrant

Or pad the thud
Sandbag a levee’s break
I’d rather you linger this aroma
That the dream streams over when I wake

And when you leave, exhale slowly
So that your breath is forced to float
Until it lands to find its home
In the fabric of my clothes

If it’s a spell I am under
Continuously recast
Reel me in gently
For this swim could be my last

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