While admiring the happy couple I feel bliss.

Then my stomach sinks.

The heart-shattering realisation that I will never acquire that same affection.

Some humans are not built for romance, and I am shamefully one of them.

I do not want your roses. I do not care for your false proposes.

All I want is to be seen.

For someone to not love me for my skin, but for my soul.

Many eyes gaze into mine.

Not one shows empathy. Not one shows genuine care.

You view me with hunger. I view you with kindness.

You like my eyes, but just the colour.

Not how they sparkle when the sun hits them.

Or how they become lighter when tears fall.

I see you as a spiritual being, you simply see me as a physical one.