I used my voice this time.
This time of healing, growing, becoming.

Small at first. But getting
Stronger.

Once choking back the lines that kept me small but fed.

Small whispers to the wind now bigger than the sky

Ignite the roar within the clouds.

Standing on my boundary line.

Not for me but for her.

Standing taller, so she’s standing firm.
Firmer than before.
Pressing down the line that came before. When I would shrink at the thought.
Hard to get the words out.
So much silence in my mouth
screaming to escape
but too afraid of what I’ll hear.

Will they hear me?

Met with echoes of the past
that always leave
if I step out of line—
that boundary line.

Keep me in.
In place. In step. Inside. My head.

This time has come.
Not for me but for her.

Talking too much, saying too much.
It’s all too much to bear to the world before me.
You’re doing it again.

But it won’t stop pouring out.

Hold back.
Back inside the lines.
There you go, again.
Tumbling as the words fall out.

Stay small. Watch your step.
One wrong move and they’ll just go.
Just like the last one.
All the last ones.

You’ll be last, just one.
All that’s left if you say too much.

What is truth if not set free?

What’s on her mind and in my heart
is jumping off the tip of our tongue—
dying to come out,
but heavy in throats who can’t swallow us whole.

This time—
It’s not for me but for her.

Time to wait and wonder if not me, who else will stand here firmly grounded?
Stand her ground
of breaking silence
into a thousand pieces on the floor.

A thousand times I held my breath
watching truths shatter beneath her feet.

Feet shuffle left then right.
Getting closer to the light
with every broken moment she picks up
and holds against her flesh.

Listening for her voice.
Learning from the jagged pieces.
Growing brighter into focus.

She clutches tighter, as the truth cuts deeper.
Burning to be set free.
Release the air from my lungs.

To be free all at once.

Into the void.

It fills the room.
The space is hers.
The boundary named.
Not for me but for her.

For all the times she needed me—
when I was looking for a savior behind the lines around those eyes.

From words unspoken.
Wounds unhealed.
Fear so big the silence was safer.

It’s hard to leave her bitten tongue.

Calmer heads prevail again. But calmer waters see strangers in horizons.
Just walk the line. Torn.
Do I keep going?
Stay the course.

She can’t go back now. Leapt.
No backing down from the edge
you called the line I crossed and claimed. Enough.
She called your bluff
and you spilled over.

Now I’m here to save us both—
from drowning in the cold bitter quiet
pooling up inside her mouth.

Someone has to become her voice.
Not for me but for her.

She needs me still.
It’s time I draw the line
of who she’ll be someday,
with every breath beating louder in my chest.

It’s clearer than before. I know the way.
These lines—a map.

I’ll guide us both
from lies that keeping quiet stays the course.

More sure of who I am.

These words lead us
to who she’s meant to be
when the lines aren’t blurred and the path is straight.

She sees that speaking up is waking up.
And I am wide awake.

So she can shout
into wide open spaces.

Silent no more.

Not for me but for her.