I am already leaving
even as I stand still.
A version of me
slips quietly
between breaths
unnoticed,
unchosen,
but inevitable.
The laughter I held yesterday
no longer fits my mouth.
The dreams I swore by
have softened at the edges.
I do not mourn him,
that former self
but I feel
the faint echo
of his footsteps
in my chest.
To leave is not to disappear.
It is to become
a shadow
that gently blesses
what comes next.
And so I walk forward,
carrying less of who I was,
and a little more
of what I cannot yet name.