Marco Di Caprio

Seated, I watch the shadow of myself,
My gaze fixed on a pale strip on the floor.
The light begins to fade, then disappears.

Speak now. I need you.

A fading pulse of beauty, almost lost.

You left almost without a cry, or one
This world was never meant to hear at all.

This house has turned to stone.

Your presence fills the silence pressing in.
I cannot tell if silence still remains,
But signals no one living can decode.

Your face remains. But I can’t touch it.