Leaving

If I go I won't tell you. I'll just disappear one day. Like when a cigarette , which seemed so long, suddenly has become smaller and you never noticed it because you were talking about the meaning of life while life was somewhere else blown away with your smoke into the sky and then dispersed never quite visible again but still floating on the breeze hoping to be caught in a butterfly net but unable to communicate except by flying. If I go it will not be today but it will be an ordinary day no one will realize that it's that day that the bird flies from her nest to go to a new place only seeing the deserted nest he realizes: my bird has flown!