Please See Me

I stood in front of you,

my skin bare,

my heart open,

quiet,

hopeful,

trusting.

Wanting you to see me.

Wanting you to know this body had lived,

had small scars from scuffed knees crashing bikes year ago,

had climbed volcanoes,

had awakened at the base of glaciers,

had swam with dolphins amongst fluorescent coral gardens,

had been loved by others,

and loved others.

Wanting you to know these eyes had cried,

both in joy

and gut-wrenching despair.

Wanting you to see me.

I was human,

flesh and energy

and life

standing before you,

quiet,

hopeful,

trusting.

I wanted to reach out and shake you,

to beg you,

to convince you that I was real and true

and

here,

now.

Instead I watched helpless as 

the stories,

the pictures,

the sounds,

the smells,

the tastes,

the images,

the memories

of times well past drowned out the woman standing before you,

bare,

soft,

vulnerable,

yours.

And you chose to touch her body,

but never to see her mind.