Tender Boundaries

The first time I said no,

My whole body braced for impact

like the ceiling might collapse

from one honest syllable.

﹁﹂

You asked for my time again,

late notice, sweet voice,

that casual “c’mon”

That used to hook me every time.

﹁﹂

I stared at my calendar

like it could answer for me.

It didn’t.

So I did.

﹁﹂

No.

Not sharp, not cruel

just no,

with my hands steady on my mug

So you wouldn’t hear them shake.

﹁﹂

There was a pause.

My old fear rushed in to fill it

I’m selfish, I’m difficult,

I’m about to be abandoned.

﹁﹂

But then you said,

“Oh, okay. Next time.”

Like it was normal.

Like love didn’t require

my constant self-erasing.

﹁﹂

I laughed after we hung up,

half relief, half disbelief.

I kept waiting for the penalty,

the cold shoulder,

The punishment disguised as distance.

﹁﹂

It didn’t come.

And that’s when I learned

boundaries can be tender

a fence with flowers,

a door that closes gently

without slamming the whole world out.

﹁﹂

I’m still practicing.

Sometimes my no comes out as “maybe,”

But I’m getting there.