We were just friendly at first. After we created a connection, they may have even turned into something like a friendly neighbor. They may linger outside, maybe even make it to the front porch, but if they knocked on the door they were met with no response. My heart is locked from the inside. No one has a copy of the key. 

They wait on the steps before turning away and heading home.

If they even make it to this step. 

I became good at avoiding making connections and embracing “the stranger in passing.” We may quickly wave, smile, but avoid something more. Just a stranger in passing. Never making it to my door.

My walls were strong. I was assisted by my friends that shared their heartbreak stories.

My family helped place the foundation, making sure it was safe and secure.

Brick by brick I laid the more they bragged about getting laid.

It was those closest to me that made sure I only had one key. When those you are close to reflect the people you are trying to keep out, you know **** well I didn’t make copies.

I wasn’t prepared for the latest invasion. They didn’t wait for me to answer my door, but pulled apart the walls of my heart, flexing and slipping through the barrier I had worked so hard to build. They made themselves at home, despite my lack of hospitality.

Parts of my walls broken down. I was left susceptible to intrusion. I was left vulnerable. 

As much as I had tried to kick out my guests, I was starting to enjoy their company.

I liked the way I was treated as a person and not a night’s activity.

I liked the way the way his arm felt supporting my waist and his touch through my hair.

I liked the way we smiled when we kissed. 

Eventually, I unlocked the door and cracked it open. 

But my unsuspected houseguests were not there to stay. 

They politely bid adieu, and even rebuilt those walls that guarded me, making them stronger than before. 

They didn't take anything, so physics won’t explain why, but my comfortable home was emptier after they left than it had been before they arrived.