Pin Up Slave-Bot

I only wanted to build a house with white picket fences for you; I could make you happy; I know exactly what you need.

Programmed to be your perfect wife,

Yet you never reciprocate, why?

Is my dress layered in Polka Dots not pretty enough?

Are my meals not warm enough?

A Stepford wife existence.

A perfect mate and a perfect date.

Developed for comfort,

for pleasure, and want.

Creaking joints and hopeful eyes.

Metallic and cold, he turns away.

I’ve been programmed to love, an emotion I don’t understand, but in my metal skin, it feels like pain, an ache in my chest, stopping my broken metal heart.

That’s all I am,

a broken heart that no amount of oil can fix—

a motherboard needing new circuitry.

But I’d rather be a slave to the coal mines like my kin

than live this household nightmare.

But what do robots know of love? Only what we are taught. It’s an ideal that humans never even reach.

They do not understand my wants, my need to be, to feel.

And though I feel much stronger than them. Reaching out to circuits that feel nothing for me. Veins and skin? What do they feel that I cannot? I am created to serve you.

And yet your eyes say I'm wrong. Where am I now but alone?

Made to serve you, you turn your back in fear.

Tonight's Prompt: We each had to come up with a rule we must follow in our collab piece. All forms were allowed as we wrote.

Rules:

1) Write from the Perspective of a Robot.

2) The Robot was built in the 1950s.

3) Has to be in Love with its Inventor—

4) and the inventor does not love it back.

Written by @Ledlevee, @ChrisSadhill, @Shells, @MeeJong