I read the lines
I wrote
And  try to conjure you:
Appear  before me!
But you  don't - the
Distance is too cold to
Transport your spirit here,
To  incarnate your sprite,
The  space between us
Wears  me down,  foils rny
Power  to slake this appetite.

My  wand, impotent, hovers
In the air and despite
My  exhortations, stays
Severe and quiet, non-
Energised; even my
Clairvoyance has

I am  in extreme
Climates of the heart
For  time has rolled me
On,  congealed all feeling,
Living anticipation apart
From   you too long to
Recreate the heat on my

You   skim across my mind
Elusive as a ghost, my
Daily feat: kindling you
In my  thought
As  each day comes
And   each day goes.

I need a fresh injection
Of  your drug: infuse my
Blood  with a living breathing
Of  body pulse
Of  synergy.

Thus,  I wander
In  these ranges of despair,
Too   cold to conjure
All you  are. I call you
From   afar: I need
My   fulcrum here.
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