He said he didn’t like rules, preferred
none at all, that any rules existed only
to be broken.
She’d written something similar:
it’s not about rules or boundaries,
it’s about freedom and love.
(I will not say
I should have called these red flags,
but the colours are somehow clearer
in the rear view mirror.)
I broke
two of mine. I cannot claim
ignorance nor circumstances out of my control,
but with those best of intentions
that pave the path to hell,
these violations seemed mitigated,
even justified.
The triumvirate is broken - they said
it was triangular and thus stable,
but they forgot we are human
and not geometry.
An absence of rules
feels like freedom
only till someone is hurt
or something is damaged.
We masqueraded as liberated,
playing on rocky terrain pocked with landmines.
I never intended to step on one,
but intentions matter little
once the damage is done.
Broken
By
Spilled Ink from the Vault 