Red Tape

Secrets that make no sense 
You record our conversations 
Waiting for me to make a mistake 
But I can never ask any questions 
It is like an interrogation 
Not a relationship 
The way you keep your thoughts 
Hidden in a shoebox inside your heart
Password to your affection —
Redacted! 
As I go through every procedure 
With love and with passion 
But you redirect me at every turn 
Making this process so complicated 
One that I'm struggling to discern
Leaving me to question,
Have you been burnt before?