No [And yet..]
No.
You've never felt anything particular for Sherlock Holmes.
You throw dirt on his grave.
No.
You don't suffer excessively for his lack.
You caress the closed case of his violin.
No.
You don't prepare anymore that damn tea.
A cup falls on the ground -or have you thrown it?
And you pretend his absence has nothing to do with all of this.
No.
You didn't shed tears for him.
Yet what is this emptiness in the chest?
No.
You didn't stop living when he left you alone.
But can you really avail yourself of this right?
No.
You didn't yell.
However your heart keeps bleeding.
And bleeding. And bleeding. And bleeding.
No.
You didn't scream.
By now you have no voice.
No.
You didn't love him.
Yet you wish you could have had the chance.