When I was 13, a boy told me this is how you kiss, that gifts show affection, and that this is love. 

 

I started laying bricks down.

 

At 14 the second boy I kissed called me a slut. He taught me that boys play games but only because they care. 

 

I had a walls around my heart with a nice door and several windows.

 

At 16 a boy told me that we had to be perfect, and that everyone is always watching or talking about us. That we must be perfect. Always be perfect.

 

I built a roof, and covered up the windows. 

 

At 17 a boy told me I was stupid, that had no relevancy to society. He told me all that I am is my body. That I needed to shut my mouth.

 

I reinforced my walls.

 

At 18 I messed up. A boy cared about me but I was hollow of all happiness by then, so he'll always be a good friend. 

 

I hid inside my fortress.

 

At 19 I fell in-love with a boy who was never mine. A boy told me I was pretty, and that he had been used too, so we used each other for a while. 

 

I locked the door, threw away the key, and stayed safe inside. 

 

At 20 a man showed me my walls and said "I'll be patient, and I won't leave," I took a chance on him.

 

I opened up a window and hid a key under the doormat. 

 

I'm 21 now, and he's 23. We live in a tiny apartment. We work early mornings and late hours. He's hasn't left me, and I won't leave him. There no more walls and our story has just begun. 

 

He resides where the rubble of my fortress once stood.