Little Miss Boundary-Cudgel — "I'm Just Protecting My Energy"

Lyrics

Tuesday morning.
Nine-seventeen AM.
There's just a blue bubble, hanging in the quiet air.
Unanswered.

I typed it without thinking, an old habit.
"How are you doing today?"
Seven little words.
Not a siege. Not a demand for entry.
Just a hand on the door.
But the deadbolt slid home.
The screen went dark on your end.
I can feel the silence from here.
That cold, clean click of a number blocked.

And I can hear the words you'd use.
The ones you wear like armor now, shiny and new from therapy.
"I'm just protecting my energy."
A boundary.
But a boundary is a garden fence, you can pass a cup of sugar over it.
This is a wall.
This is a moat you dug all night, deep and wide.
And the word you used felt less like a shield
and more like a cudgel to the face.

I remember that brunch at The Wren, last October.
You cried over your eggs benedict, the hollandaise getting cold.
You said you felt so seen.
I held that space for you.
I used the words you taught me to use.
I didn't know you were taking notes for a deposition.
Not for connection.
For construction.
Drawing blueprints for the fortress you live inside now.

And you'd say it again, wouldn't you?
In that calm, practiced, untouchable voice.
"I'm just protecting my energy."
A boundary.
But a boundary is a line in the sand the tide can wash away.
This is a canyon.
This is a drawbridge pulled up for good.
And that word, "boundary,"
it sounds a whole lot like "goodbye."

Did you send a statement?
A pre-written email with bullet-pointed infringements?
Did you diagram my failure in your leather-bound journal?
A tiny flag on your castle wall, marking the exact spot where I trespassed
by asking if you were okay.
Is your energy so precious? So fragile?
Or is the silence just so much easier
than the messy work of a shared room?

Tuesday morning.
Still nine-seventeen.
My seven words.
Your tall, perfect, silent wall.
I'm out here, on the wrong side of the moat.
The water is still.
And my message is still there.
Delivered.
Read.