Falling In Slow Motion

I found her eyes to be captivating. Their soft and simple beauty tore me apart, yet I could not look away. One gaze into those eyes would ignite the fire that once burned in my veins. I can only hope she will never look away. Every night she bathes herself in the beauty of the stars and lays her head upon her pillow still waiting for the night to take her away.
She dreams in visions of serenity. Now I have cut off my wings and turned my back on this. I can never go back home again. I tried to paint her, but she kept slipping off the canvas.
She was liquid lines all in motion. The waves of her body were washing over one another in rhythmic tides that I could not stop. Reservoirs of her beauty brimmed over the edges flooding into rivers of purity. Her portrait dripped away through water-painted dreams. The canvas, now empty, could not contain her.