We were more than you thought we could ever be.

I'd probably be smiling, were it not for the look in your eyes. Instead, I am walking away in a haze of things that had happened moments before. They wrap around my neck in sequence. Like a scarf. Like a noose. A noose fit for my neck and hey-

you promised, didn't you?

But promises are only words. Words are only letters and letters are only sounds and sounds are only the vibrations that spill from your throat as you choke on my condescending afflictions.

Words on your lips and not in your eyes.

You resolve, somewhere in your chest, that promises are disposable matters and you abandon them. Me.

There are more important things - more important matters at hand. And in your hands, you crush them all up into little pieces. Little shards of glass. Until everything is in a pile of glass grains.

And then you blow it all into the oncoming gale.

All your problems and promises and worries - all carried away in the wind. By morning you'll have forgotten all about it. Everything will be gone. Vanquished into a stream of breath.

Sure, crushing glass left your hands sore and bloody.

But it all pays off in the end. No worries. No problems. Nothing can come crashing down.

Your paradisiac intendment proves only laying my neck inside the noose the next day and waiting for gravity to take my breath away.

Your fingers graze the trigger. Your eyes trickle red.

I await execution and glass air exhales about us.