The strange thing is,
you are still here.
Your shoes are by the door.
Your voice still fills the room.
Your name still appears
in our conversations.
And yet,
somehow,
we miss you.
Not the version standing in front of us.
The version who used to stay.
The version who laughed
before every word became serious.
The version who felt
a little closer.
I suppose that is the difficult thing
about change.
Sometimes people do not leave.
They simply become
someone we no longer know
while standing in the same room.