Boundaries

So beautiful, so right, so full, so whole, so easy to touch, to hold, to

drop.

To break.

To feel until its edges are sharp.

To drink until it’s no longer contained.

When the sweetness escapes it isn’t free, it’s broken,

scattered,

maimed.

Freedom and boundaries are not the same thing

but binding what’s beautiful into one book

does not denote the beauty of a page.

Boundaries are what keeps beauty from falling into pieces.

Still beautiful in pieces,

but so hard to hold.

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