It's a bloody irony. It was only so long ago. And now you're faced with the same problem again.
You did promise yourself that much, at least? Of course you did. Of course, knowing what an efficient liar you are, you didn't even realize how well you just lied to yourself. Isn't that just fantastic? Such an advanced level of deceit, you should be proud. Or embarassed that you didn't notice it. Either way.
You can probably guess he knows. And he's just waiting for you to bite. The trap has been baited, and you cleverly walked right into it. What a joke. You think after how it shattered the last time, you'd be keeping your glassware far away from such dangerous places. That glowing red heart has finally cooled into that large igneous chunk. Your scars are those dark streaks of obsidian staining the otherwise flawless crystal. It's no longer innocent, and you'd think the price of those black strokes would have bought you some knowledge. Apparently they haven't.
Like the master glassblower, he toys with that hunk of cheap transparency. What was cold and black, he's heating up again. He melts your heart, doesn't he? In and out, he pulls it out of the furnace, and drops it into ice cold water. Smelting process as it is, he shapes it by his fancy. Of course, a by product is that it makes the glass very hard. Harder than rock. And it cracks. Uneven heating and fast cooling destroys the otherwise perfect molecule. More streaks appear. They weep molten glass. Like how your heart cries at your allowing it such suffering.
Even angels fall. You were never an angel. And you've fallen far deeper than you can hope to get out of. And hell, you don't even have wings. Damnation.
Does he or does he not want you? Or is he simply playing with the glass till it breaks? Is this practice? If it is, he's making a large mess of it, don't you think? Maybe you should take it back, and break it yourself. At least you would keep the pieces in one box.