Bricks

My hands are tied with strings and ropes of countless failed relationships

Years of pressure and games of tug-of-war that I was the one to let go of

I have released so many ropes to let the other person fall away from me

Only to knot them around my limbs as a reminder that I could not keep those that don’t belong to me

That I am not allowed to let people get too close

And I was fine with that

I reinforced my own cages and restrictions

I built walls that only certain people were allowed to touch

And even fewer were allowed to climb over

And only one is allowed to keep a ladder

And those walls were high

It would take years to get over each one

And that’s the way I wanted it

I placed myself right in the center of them

Some called it lonely

I called it safe

I loved my walls

I painted pictures on them and etched poems into the bricks

There were times when I cursed them for not letting me speak

There were times when I regretted building them because they would scare people away

But that was fine, because I was protected

They worked --most of the time

She stood at the farthest wall, where everyone starts out

She was kind, she had common interests

I let her step over the first

Words continued to exchange and trade mouths in the forms of stories and inside jokes

Her feet kept moving and she kept climbing over the walls with more ease than anyone before

And I kept inviting her in

She insisted she understood me

She told me she had walls similar to mine

And she kept getting closer and closer

Farther and farther in

And I had no way of telling her to slow down

I was just happy that I had someone else that wanted to be near me

I was overjoyed that someone wasn’t scared off by my walls

And she kept getting closer

But then I noticed that she wasn’t climbing

She broke away at the bricks

Burst holes into my walls

And I tried desperately to fill them

But the moment I plugged up the openings she had made

She begged me to let her climb over

But I was getting nervous, I wouldn’t let her

So she pushed more -- hit harder

Asked me why I was hiding things from her

“I’m your friend, let me in!”

“I’m your friend, let me in!”

And I began to feel guilty for not letting her see me

So I hid away in the center and let her keep breaking them

Though she insisted that she was climbing over them

But I could hear the cracks

She kept getting closer, and closer

Until she started working her way though the last wall

The one I built tallest, the one I built strongest

As she kept stealing bits and pieces of the bricks

That I had painted pictures on and etched poems into

I swore to myself I would tell her to stop

But then the chipping went silent

“I can’t believe after all this work,

“You still won’t invite me in.”