i closed the door but never locked it

"I closed the door but never locked it"

that's what they say right?

my door is green. for that is the best colour. it has specks of yellow glitter. for that was his best colour. it has a shiny handle, with patterns brushing against your fingertips. the welcome mat laid out nicely on the floor, with wildflowers in a pot growing next to it. my books lined neatly on my shelfs. 

he arrived at my door and he walked strait through. his shoes were clean and he watered my flowers. he helped me paint my walls all kinds of new, and made the room of my emotions glow a Sunkissed yellow. he came to my door more and more and every time he would put a new thing on my shelf. my door slowly became his, his footsteps indented on the welcome mat and the flowers taller than ever.

my door was the prettiest door id ever made. it didn't look like me anymore though, it was all his designs and his words in my books.my flowers were no longer wild, and instead tamed and arranged in a bouquet. my handle began to rust and my welcome matt became muddy. i couldn't remember what my door looked like. Mabey it wasn't my prettiest door.

he scratched my door, and broke my handle. he ripped the bolts straight off and the patterns cut my fingerprints away. he ruined my welcome matt, and coated it in mud. he killed my flowers and destroyed their pot. he took everything off my shelfs until they were left empty and famished. he had drawn all over the covers of my books and ripped all the pages inside. the paint he had added new on my walls had chipped and began to peel.

he destroyed my safe place, and slammed my green and yellow speckled door taking the handle with him. he found a new door to change, the door the next room over. he told me that my door hurt his eyes, and he didn't like how it gave him splinters. that was weird because he was the one that painted it, and he was the one who scratched the wood into his fingers.

I sat in front of my door. I looked around and realised this door wasn't mine anymore. he had made it his, and taken all beauty away from my walls. the paint he had used to cover my colours had chipped, and I could see the patterns I had put there before. 

I scraped the yellow glitter of my door, and planted brand new flowers. I wrote my own books and designed my own stories. I painted new patterns on my walls. it was brighter now. so much brighter. I replaced my door handle with a new glossy gold one. it had patterns on it that danced across your skin.

I watered my own flowers, and they are the fullest and most vibrant they have ever been. I made my door my own, and applied every colour of glitter I had. my door still had scratches, of course it did, but I dripped gold into the cracks, and painted flowers over the flaws.

"I closed the door but I never locked it"

I suppose they are right. I didn't lock that door for him. but the welcome matt is no longer laid out nicely on the floor.