A story of us

Let my words caress as I cannot
Asleep, on a blanket, beneath Autumn sky
No chance I’ll stop liking you, girl
You are never far from my thoughts
This cavalcade of days, needing you more
Days without you, not worth the time
An impossible hope coupled to impossible choices.

Boundaries?

Someone I care for has said that I push boundaries. Like it is something that I actively do. My perception is that I know who I am and what I want. I may not know day to day what I’m doing and I get lost all the time but ultimately I have a rock solid idea of where I began and how I got to here. 

 My ideas are evolving. I am evolving and learning. I change as time passes. We all do. I’m just paying close attention and shaping myself as I go. Is that pushing boundaries? 

I think of boundaries as the lines we draw ourselves with. Mine are spokes radiating outward. Ebbing and flowing to encompass new ideas or discarding old ones. Is that pushing boundaries? Or is that, at least for my self, a disregard for the existence of boundaries.

 It’s not like I don’t fear things. And I hate changes I have no influence on. But my self? I think I am not willing to be defined by boundaries. Lines that I won’t cross. There are a few. I have defined those. But they are more broad outlines with escape clauses should it prove necessary. 

 Perhaps I don’t define myself by the boundaries I won’t cross but by the things I will do. Maybe that is the more accurate statement . 

Deja vu

completely familiar
Caught in limbo
Between wanting and having
Between talking and touching
Stuck in amber
not wanting a way out
Or away
just trying to find my way
to