The irony of longing

I don’t know what love is, the love between a man and a woman
I don’t understand the joy, the joy they have though they are drowned in debt
I don’t understand the bond, the bond that ties them together in a way that you do not know the beginning of one and the end of the other
I don’t see the beauty, the beauty they both see in each other, though one resembles a vulture
I don’t hear the tune, the tune they seem so in tuned to, which only they can hear and dance to
I don’t understand the sense, the sense of permanence behind it all, which makes them believe it is now and forever

I can’t see the reason, the reasoning behind the sacrifices they make for each other
I can’t grasp the idea, the idea behind sharing your space with another FOR LIFE
I can’t smell the perfume, the perfume they emit while making love
I can’t taste the sweetness, the sweetness in their bitter fights
I can’t understand the slavery, the slavery they practice with each other

But I long for my own love, my joy, my bond, my beauty, my tune, my permanence, my sacrifice, my loving, my shared space, my perfume, my sweetness, my slavery, my own very beginning that never ends.