To dear,

It was a broken lock in my back 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" day, when it seemed like I just wanted silent company. I hoped you would pick up the phone so you could come help me.

But before I knew itp…the days as before I met you resumed. I forgot about my broken lock in my back garden.
Somehow, someone snuck in. It didn't want to get out. It stained my head 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 because messy.
The toolshed wouldn't stop squeaking.Then.

But now it still does less so then before. I still wish I could see you 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