under the covers

by
out of the wrist of my dreams, zephyrs
of my confidential scents are unchained
in his moments to [bring to him my joy]

evoked by the symphony of the senses
with a charming potion of my charisma
I'm smoothing his spirit in its assembly

for in musical notes, I'm under the covers
enough to chase away miserable thoughts
and his peculiar embroidered nightmares

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