If you were the clouds,
I was the rain.
If you were the dagger,
I was the pain.
If you were the cliff,
I waas years of erosion.
If you were a bomb,
I was the explosion.

None of this was your fault;
all of it was me.
I'm walking away slow,
you turn to flee.
I understand what I do
might be wrong,
but do you understand
that now I'm gone?