She smiles when she breaks you.
It hurts, of course, like nothing you ever felt in your life. How could it not?
Not just a pain that jolts through the nerves of your body, this is a shattering of awareness, a fragmenting of your selfhood.
It is pain that limns every surface of your perception. It paints the world you thought you knew in dazzling shades of iridescent agony. It hurts to think, to even conceive of a “you” that thinks, but you try to do so anyway because you cannot conceive of another way to be.
She conceives it for you, deep within herself. You bubble across the fingertips of hands she uses to lovingly trace the meandering path of your timeline.
It hurts like nothing and like everything all at once.
But she smiles when she breaks you, and isn’t that enough?