A Form of Endearment

I see the tall, long, skinny legs and the floor-length blonde hair. The turquoise-blue eyes, Almost crystalizing for my jealousy; Maybe I do. I see cuddles and I see love. I see endearment and I see faith in one another. Or I don’t. I see ideas of two people coming together as One. But I do not feel it. I see the parent and the child, But I do not feel it. I see the acceptance of one person’s skin from another’s, But I do not feel it. I see calming words spoken from a friend to a lover, But I do not feel it. I see the gratitude behind an accepted peace offering; I see freshly cut grass; I see recently painted white walls; I see new cars, a new house; I see the adults speaking with a mutual respect to the wild teen; But I do not feel it. I feel, But this I do not.