He used to feed you a bowl full of glass promises. You’d smile at him cautiously and chew them carefully because seeing you pretend that you weren’t hurt made him happy. Later you’d walk into the bathroom and stare at the shards coating the cave of your mouth like paintings.
He used to hand you promises that would stain. It was worth it, to see his face light up as you pretended not to notice the growth covering your palms and fingers. You’d wipe your hands on your clothes. You stopped wearing anything light enough to hold the stain.
He used to fill your head with promises that lit your brain on fire. You’d tell him your head hurt and his smile would fly away. You’d stomach the pain because you didn’t think you had a choice. You let the flames consume the last of your sanity.
He used to be so careless with your heart you were sure you couldn’t use it again. But even the deepest wounds heal.