Spun In Fusion

Her change, my range. I’m not
in complain. Linger in vein. Higher
temperatures.. She’s a front, not
blunt. Need sleep, how she follows me
To pillowed vision. Given to coast,
rearrange my notes. Cancel whatever
I said I’d do.

I’m staring out whatever
Window I can find, imagining singing
2u. Not distracted, you keep writing–
Teach this magic, called focus.
No draw, just awe.. See you there at desk,
Rare stone. I’m imparted, prone
To illusionary removal.