I promise. A pinkie swear of sorts that clasps on my lungs and makes my breath grow heavy. You sigh. Fingers becoming fluid as they trickle around my waist and make promises about a nonexistent forever. We're stupid. So ignorant we can barely comprehend the word, but than again no words make sense. Eyes close. Cartwheeling farther away from unfamiliarity and approaching the inevitable detachment. It's coming. Denial is a cruel parasite that builds comfort when future distance grows with each heartbeat. But I promise. With a failing prayer that pinkies cannot be broken and that hearts and promises are invincible as well.