You say tell me everything
And i tell you everything

I say tell me more, and you say less
Make me regret I told you so much
You made a mess of me with your touch and your ways
But I knew you would, I've known for more than just hours and days
I've known for so many years, that one day you would break me
I knew what fool you would make me
But I let you, because you gave me bliss
But promise me, let me go with a soft hug, and a heartfelt last kiss

An old man climbs into a vintage car
to smell the sweet upholstery,
caresses the steering wheel’s steel bars
and grips the gearshift **** of ivory.

He pulls the heavy door to close
it and hear its deep, dull iron clunk
that fuel-injects him with a dose
of chrome-clad metal hunks.

The streamlined car doesn’t move.
Still, it takes him on a favored trip
down a grey road well grooved
that his whitewall mind-tires firmly grip.

Its tires spin in grooves and sing
a well-pitched tune of rolling on.
Seams of concrete slabs now bring
the bumping heartbeat of this song.

His greying hairs match the road
which stretches out into his past,
leading him back in freeway flow
to a love that he’d made last.

For in a leather rumble seat
in a sleek car just like this one,
he’d kissed her hand and lips to greet
his sweetheart hunnybun.

She smiled as bright as high beams
at her motorheaded beau,
with wide eyes that stole his dreams
and made his fuel more quickly flow.

With hair like raven asphalt
framing lips in brake-light red,
in her saw he no faults,
but thanks to him, she’d end up dead

in a shattering crash
as they slid into a tree,
his youthful driving brash
and far too wild and free.

He swore to never leave
her by that bleak perditious street.
Resolved, he chose to grieve
her and keep the rumble seat.

So once a year he sits in this car.
He never drove again.
But each time it takes him far,
right to where his hunnybun had been.

The paltering sounds of acid rain, burning as they reach the concrete ground. I know it was painful - I couldn't help you.

An endless whisper haunts your mind, midst in the acid rain - where I'll cover you from the burning rain. You let the rain drip down your beautiful heart and scar you, regretful of your past.

Although, I loved you, so I can't just watch and let time pass. An embrace made us forget the iron taste of blood, or my wounds smeared in mud.

As a haunting whisper will forever remain in the past, I'll love you with all I have, despite you no longer being my other half.

I'm not sad,
but neither am I truly happy.
It's like... I can wear a smile,
and crack a joke or two during the day.
But when the night falls and silence takes over,
I find myself lost, unsure of what I really feel.
At times, I feel hollow, like an abandoned shell,
a fragile vessel adrift in an endless sea of thoughts.

If I had known when our last day was going to be, would I have lived that week differently?
Realistically, yes.
But only because I would have been panicking.
So let's not be realistic.
Let's be idealistic.
If I had known then what I know now…
I would have read to you.
I would have read until my throat was sore because I know how much you wanted to be home with a book.
I would have turned on all your favorite music. We would have streamed a thousand movies. Anything you wanted to see. I would have brought you anything you wanted to eat or drink.
I would have asked 5 billion questions and written it all down. I would have recorded your voice so I never forget the sound. We would have recounted our best memories and I would have asked you, how am I supposed to move on without you. I would have written your memorial and read it aloud so you knew what it would say…
I told you “I love you” five-thousand  times a day. But I would have said it five-thousand and one just to be safe.
If only I had known.

The clock blinks cruelly, its glow so stark,
Another sleepless night in the aching dark,
I tried to escape, to drown the weight,
But found myself at regret’s cold gate.

The pressure pressed hard, a relentless tide,
I sought relief where shadows hide,
But the choices I made were fleeting, unwise,
Now I face their echoes with tear-stung eyes.

How could I falter? How could I fall?
I swore to stand stronger, to conquer it all,
Yet here I lie, with shame my chain,
A heart heavy with self-made pain.

Idiot, I whisper, my voice low and raw,
As if naming my flaws could change what I saw,
But the past, unyielding, cannot be unwritten,
Its lessons harsh, its truths unforgiven.

Still, beneath this crushing regret,
A faint ember of hope refuses to set,
For though I stumbled, though I bled,
I’m not defined by the mistakes I’ve bred.

The pain I feel is proof I care,
A signal to rise, to mend, repair,
Each dawn brings a chance to start anew,
To rebuild the path where my truth shines through.

So I’ll gather the pieces, though jagged and sharp,
And craft a new melody from this broken harp,
For while I’m flawed, I’m not my mistakes—
A heart can heal, even as it aches.

Inside me lives the regret of high school.
Was standing beside achievers worth it?
I stood proud, loud; but what did it cost me?

My crippling body—frail, pale, and exhausted.
Was this the trophy? Was I proud to show this?
I was among the great, yet I was a pretender.
A pretender that I was okay with this lifestyle—
To keep up with the pressure, but was I really?

In the end, who was I trying to impress?
Was I supposed to feel this empty?
I achieved something, yet it meant nothing.
I stood on that pedestal, but the crowd was empty.
Now, I carry on the weight of who I tried to be.

Trust is a fragile thing, and I learned this through the bruises of past relationships. Boundaries were a concept I didn’t recognize, let alone embrace. Throughout my childhood and young adult life, I hadn’t seen trust protected by boundaries; instead, it felt conditional, something that could vanish the moment I made a mistake.

Growing up in a home where my voice was often drowned out, where the lines between safety and fear blurred, I never learned that I had the right to set limits or protect my own space. As a child, I lived in an environment where mistakes felt unforgivable, with my needs and wants taking a back seat to keeping peace or avoiding conflict. That pattern followed me, undetected, into adulthood.

In my past marriage, trust was twisted into something transactional; I gave and gave, bending to make things work, hoping that in sacrificing my needs, I’d somehow earn security. But trust erodes quickly when there’s no boundary to protect it, and by the time we reached the end, it was shattered, scattered in pieces I could barely recognize. Throughout the entire 14-year relationship with my ex-wife, I unknowingly carried the absence of boundaries with me. I tried to be everything I thought a husband and father should be, pouring every ounce of myself into a relationship that quietly depleted me, while she dictated our lives to the smallest detail, and often used them against me. My needs vanished under layers of compromise and concession. Over time, I realized I wasn’t in love with her, but instead tethered by an obligation to uphold the image of a “good husband.”

Boundaries felt selfish; they seemed like walls I wasn’t allowed to build, even as my own well being deteriorated. I had buried my true self beneath the weight of expectations and silent suffering. It took years to realize how damaging that was and how necessary it is to set limits that honor one’s own dignity. After my divorce, I thought love alone would be enough to hold onto trust, but I soon saw how easily trust can be chipped away without boundaries to frame it. It taught me that when boundaries aren’t respected, trust withers, leaving behind only doubt and regret.

I realize now, boundaries are the silent guardians of trust. They keep it intact, protected from the misunderstandings that come when needs go unspoken. When I set boundaries, I’m not only safeguarding my well-being but also inviting others to respect my trust by respecting my limits. Learning to set boundaries has been, in many ways, a journey in rebuilding trust and that boundaries are an act of self-respect. They aren’t barriers to keep people out, but lines that protect the best of who we are. I came to see that in order to show up as a healthy, present father, as a friend, as a partner, and as the person I strive to be, I need to safeguard my energy and my emotional space. Learning to set limits; to tell others where I end and they begin; has been a transformative act of reclaiming myself. I understand now that boundaries are not selfish; they are a declaration of self-worth. I had to understand that without boundaries, trust has no foundation; it’s a vulnerable thing that requires support to stand on my own and they’re about creating a safe space where trust can grow slowly, steadily, and with integrity.

I have come to learn that when I honor my boundaries, I’m rebuilding the foundation of trust in myself. This trust is precious; it’s the belief that I won’t betray my own needs for someone else’s comfort. They’re a promise to myself that I will no longer give away pieces of my peace. And when others respect my boundaries, they earn something rare and valuable; a trust that, this time, feels solid enough to last.

Through my experience, I’ve come to carry three powerful truths about boundaries. First, they are non-negotiable. For too long, I made my needs flexible, prioritizing others over myself. Now, boundaries allow me to define who I am, uncompromisingly. Second, they empower us to say no without guilt or apology. Each ‘no’ is a way of saying ‘yes’ to the life and relationships I deserve. And finally, boundaries are how we honor ourselves and teach others to do the same. They are my compass, helping me navigate life with dignity, pride, and authenticity.

This journey hasn’t been easy. Breaking the patterns of a lifetime can feel like tearing down and rebuilding a house from its foundations. But I’ve learned that setting boundaries isn’t about anger or resentment; it’s about clarity, growth, and love; for myself, for my daughter, and for the relationships I wish to nurture moving forward.

—

Once there was a quiet garden,
filled with colors bright and wild.
It grew best when lines were honored;
a space for each root, each petal, each stem.

For a time, no borders stood,
and flowers tangled, starved for sun,
their colors dulled, their strength pulled thin,
as vines of one drained life from within.

So a gardener placed small stones around,
not walls, but paths for each to grow;
a space to bloom, freely and alone,
to lift their heads, to stretch and know.

In tending gently to each line,
the garden thrived, each flower freed,
and side by side, they grew in kind,
a beauty held by roots, not need.

Boundaries gave them life that way,
together, yet strong, every day.

— Sincerely, Boris