Robot in my Bed

You are next to me.

Sleeping.

You're storming.

Rolling and talking intermittently. 

I try to listen so maybe I can hear what you really think.

I feel sorry for you sometimes.

It must be exhausting to constantly have to shut off your thoughts.

How do you really feel?

Your subconscious doesn't want to tell me either.

I can only listen to this for a short while more before I must know.

I'm not looking for a project.

I just want back what I sort of had.

But I just have what's beside me. 

You're so emotionally crippled.

Your feelings, they own you. 

I'm sorry you're so scared.

You laugh in the day time and storm in your sleep. 

Why are you unhappy? 

You can only push me away for a short while more.

Then I'll be outside arm's reach.