Boundaries

They told me boundaries were healthy,

but no one warned me they’d feel like loneliness.

That saying no could echo so loudly

inside a heart that only ever wanted to be seen.

I built fences out of survival,

not pride.

Each post hammered in with memories

of what it cost to trust the wrong hands.

Now, when someone knocks,

I hesitate.

Not because I don’t want to open the gate—

but because I still remember

how it felt to be left bleeding in the garden.

They say healing means protecting your peace,

but sometimes peace looks like distance.

Sometimes it means loving yourself enough

to walk away before the breaking starts.

So if you think I’m cold,

understand this—

I am only guarding what’s left.

And if I keep the door locked,

it’s not because I don’t care.

It’s because I finally do.