The things she says in her sorrow stretch on till morrow.
Emotions bend, bow, and break, shaking her to the core.
She says love is lost, but she loves everyday.
She says love is an elusory thing, but she long to grasp it, and hold it close, close to her heart she feels is blackened with decay, yet it pump blood through her beautiful veins.
Yes in the poem I wanted to use elusory not illusory in this poem