When I'm gone.

I wonder if you'll notice when I'm gone. Or if it will just be like a cold gust of wind that bristles the hair layering your arm. Or if it will be like exhaling smoke as it fades away into a starless sky. Or if it will be like staring into the sun as it blinds you violently.
I'm partial to the possibility of the following: it will be like taking a breath. You wont even notice.