There's a beauty that rests
In the middle of this room
Like a cloud that drops
Too low to the ground

The lighting's just right
To make the sight
Delightfully profound

My eyes can barely
Sustain their gaze

My brain can hardly
Refrain from amazement
And confusion
At the illusion, for

There sat before
My love, Eleanor,
Elegant with an

Expression of boredom
I always adored

An airbrush glow
About her skin
Surrounded by
Shimmer and

Apathetic light
Diffusions
But now I see

Only this haze
Of smoky

Traces
In spaces
We once
Embraced in

So many
Ages
Already

Erased
And brushed
Off the
Page.