Ode on silence

I dressed silence with your face.
Before the passing hours,
I became less lonely;
I became sadder.
Just while constructing
your absence,
I could understand
what it consists of.
I do not care what you
are or are not
but so much you were
that still stays,

ornamenting silence.
The words recriate you
from the irretouchable bottom of past,
as a moveable sillouette.