Suppose you suddenly heard that I was no more. Would your heart ache terribly at first hearing? Would sorrow slowly spill from your stunned eyes? Well, if you ever do hear that I've truly vanished, would you feel regret? Or remorse? Would you sometimes wake in the middle of the night, tormented? Would my memories clutch your throat and choke the breath from you? Would my words slice through your ribs, your skin and flesh, cutting you to ribbons like sharp knives? Would you sometimes grow melancholy? Would you stop mid-sentence, forgetting what you meant to say? Tell me, would you really search for me among the crowd of stars? In the alleys and lanes of living memories? If I should ever cease to be, then don't look for me in the sky, or stars, or photographs—go stand before a mirror and search for me there; gaze deeply into those eyes of yours, the very ones whose thirst for sight will be my undoing; and you'll see me falling as tears, becoming sorrow, dissolving into you.
Say, suddenly...
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