It works like this:

He makes you laugh and he makes you cry and somewhere along the way your tears drown out your happiness. He pushes you against the wall and you mistake it for passion, and you apologize for overreacting when his nails leave marks on your skin. He takes your hand and swears he loves you, and you believe him even though something screams at you to run. And with his hands around your throat you swear this can’t be right. But he caresses your hair and suddenly you could listen to his lies forever.
You break yourself into pieces to make him fit, until one day you catch a glimpse of your reflection and no longer recognize yourself. You realize he shouldn’t be trying to subdue the glow in your eyes and the fire in your heart. And the day you leave, your ribs will finally begin to heal. His hand prints will slowly disappear until you swear they were never there at all. And the broken pieces you so selflessly gave will be returned to you, the rightful owner.

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