It was a broken lock in my door. I didn't fix it because I thought It was going to be ok. There was a toolshed in the back yard. By now it was rusted and old. It made squeaky sounds during those "cloudy" days, when it seemed like I just wanted silent company. I hoped you would pick up the phone so you you could come help me.

But before I knew it the days as before I met you resumed. I forgot about my broken broken lock in my back garden.
Somehow, someone snuck in. It didn't want to get out. It stained my head with it's illusions that I wasn't good enough.
So I moved. But it followed. I stayed out the house, I kept myself busy, got more distractions. But the stain became messy.
The toolshed wouldn't stop squeaking. Then.

But now it still does less so then before. I still wish I could see more often. I still wish I would love you, that you would watch me grow... not just by the sidelines.
I got a brand new lock however now I lost the key.

© Staircase