Boundaries

I’ve learned to draw the line, soft but sure not out of anger, but to stay pure. Too many times I let love in that left me empty, thin as skin. Now I speak slower, breathe before “yes,” and guard my calm from your unrest. It’s not that I don’t care I do but caring doesn’t mean I break for you. There are parts of me that stay my own, quiet places, seeds I’ve sown. I’ve built them from the hurt I’ve known they keep me standing, flesh and bone. So when I turn away, don’t see retreat, it’s just me learning to keep my feet. To love you without losing me, to hold my heart with dignity. My boundaries aren’t walls of stone, they’re doors that lead me safely home.