only boundaries speak

we are often
shapeless boundaries
to those who matter to us

of shapes i can speak –
’cause through the evenness
of my glasses i have seen the
ceiling widen everyday
and i perceive well when
it comes to dimensions

i see boundaries thaw
and somedays i hate to see
but then i forget to hate myself
because most days i don’t want
anyone to see me and
snatch my boundaries
away from me

i love to write
because words are shapes
not boundaries –
shapes that speak
and of shapes i can speak –
’cause through the ceiling
i used to look at constellations
and their shallowness
– from my eyes
to their life
and i perceive well when
it comes to dimensions

we are only
shapeless boundaries
to those we matter to

i am a boundary, or was i simply slapped more often to feel like one?
is that why i feel very less?

is that why i run and i create no friction?
is that why i run and i create no distance?
is that why i run and i destroy all disquiet?
is that why i run and i destroy all ends?

is that why you think you can both wear me and save me?