Your hand, grasped tightly
With the promise to never let go.

You kept your promise.
But I came to realize that your grasp was too tight
Too suffocating
Not right.

I commend you for keeping your word,
And I fault you for my wounds.

For it was you,
You with the razor stuck to your palm,
Blade facing out.

You who would graze it across thighs and
Cut
Them
Up
Into
pieces.

Cut
Me
Up
Into
Pieces -
Fragments -
Nothing.

You kept your promise.
But it hurt to hold on, the blade pressing against my hand
And cutting deep deep into the flesh.

And so I was the one who had to break the bond,
The promise,
And let go.

Still I itch and pick at the wounds that contain the memories of you;
Of the promises I broke,
And the scars you left behind.