What a Drug Should Do

Cottony void, my balcony rail
is wet with you;
You're posing solid again, but when
I extend my arms into your chest
there's nothing.

Your fine mesh
mutes engines, dims headlights,
softens city corners like a sedative.
I want to hide beneath your shawl,
that delicate insubstantiality
that renders me invisible to all
except myself, the opposite
of what a drug should do.

Copyright © C.E Chaffin

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