totallytwee
I ran.
Why did I run?
My shoes slapping the pavement, fighting against the ground
and my memories.
And, or.
Why?
I could have saved her.
My chest is burning, scratching,
like the regret locked away in my ribcage will suddenly
pry its way out,
and consume what's left of my body.
My breath leaves a trail of heat,
shame,
on my trembling lips.
Parting them, I gasp
for air, for forgiveness,
and only the sky can cry with me.
I could have saved her,
But I was afraid.