lock n key

36 3 1
                                    

I am a padlock on an apartment door handle.
I remember the first time I ever fell in love. You see, the apartment complex I was within was vacant for many years after its construction because of a low housing demand in the city it resides in.
I was all alone. For seven long years, I was isolated from anyone. Isolated from the world. Isolated from others. Isolated from love of any sort. If I'm being truly honest with y'all, there are many times I considered to let my shackle rust so I could fall to the floor and die peacefully. But then other times, I'd be scared of what I could lose and so I stuck it out.
Waiting and waiting and waiting until finally...
He arrived. My one and only. My key.
He was gorgeous in my eyes. He was gold, brand new, and shiny. For me, it was love at first sight.
I remember when he penetrated my lock hole.
It wasn't the intimate part of it I cared about. All I cared about was the love I felt for him and the love I thought he felt for me. It was a nurturing moment for me. For the first time, I felt like I had someone.
Many months went by with the same routine of him getting in and out of me, in and out of me, in and out of me, all day, every day.
In these first months, I felt nothing but love. Love and happiness and protection and like I finally mattered.
But that love started to quickly fade into dread at the realization that the only time I ever saw him was so that he could get inside of me and use me for his own need. His own purpose.
At first I tried to chalk it up as myself being overdramatic.
"It's not his fault he only gets to see me in times like this," I would think to myself. "That's his owners doing" or "That's probably my fault," I would put it up as being.
More months went by. Months turned to years. Years turned to a whole decade. And by this point, I knew what this was. This wasn't love. This was just an excuse. An excuse to be something. To feel something. On both sides of the exchange we were both excusing the affair when really it was never what it seemed to be.
All I was made for was being used. For I am just a padlock and he is just a key.

 For I am just a padlock and he is just a key

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