i push you away, running as fast as my legs could push, moving past it, past you, and finally i accomplish it, i leave you, keep you behind, watch you crumble for a while, and so admirably build your life back up, watch you love again, and i stand here, with regret, with shame, couldn’t say i’d change a thing if i could go back, but instead i’d say i crave to have been able to feel, take your hand and stick to your side, but i couldn’t, and i prayed to know why, but all i found was a blame, a blame to the ever stitched lump in my throat.