I’m still here, you know.
I haven’t left yet.
At least, not where it counts.
I still sit in my chair each day,
right beside you.
You talk to everyone around me
as if I am not here.
I hear my name mentioned
in conversations I still
don’t understand.
And, yet,
I’m still here.
I really am.
I feel myself fading,
leaving,
moving on.
It will happen.
One day, soon, I will be gone.
But, until that day,
that approaching realignment of my reality,
I am still here.
You can see me if you choose to.
You can even talk to me.