The speaker dreams of a lover who is no longer there, and the poem moves from the dream's closeness to the loneliness of waking. In the first two stanzas, touch and warmth fill the scene: fingertips on the back, a face in the neck, quickened breath. The second stanza grows more intense, as the lover reaches into the speaker's heart and soul and fills an emptiness "in a flash." But small details give the game away. The cold in the palm and the scent of spices suggest the speaker is building this person from memory, and the title, "illusion," says as much. The ghost "disintegrates" just as the speaker reaches for it, and the sentence breaks off mid-thought.
The last stanza is short and quiet. The bedsheets are cold, yet a "lingering warmth" remains in the speaker's heart. The mood is tender, aching, and sad, with longing for a love that now exists only in dreams.