Poems

I See You

I see you.
I see you see me.
That glance out of the corner of your eye.
I walk down the street.
Confident. No faltering in my steps.
Someone on a mission. To somewhere.
This thing in my hand, just a prop.
There's no way someone like me needs that.
Your attention is gone. You move on, to the next thing, the next person, the next curiosity.

I see you see me.
That glance out of the corner of your eye.
I walk down the street.
Determined. Forcing myself to my destination.
Then I can rest.
This thing I lean on, an extension of myself.
You probably think I broke something.
I didn't break anything. But everything is broken.
Your attention is gone. You move on.

I see you see me.
That glance out of the corner of your eye.
I hobble down the street.
Distraught. I just want to go home, but there's too much to do.
Doctors, hospital, government agencies. The list of appointments is endless today.
Not really. But it feels like it.
You might feel bad for me. You would never dare to show it though.
Your attention is gone. You move on.

I see you see me.
That glance out of the corner of your eye.
The bus is packed. Standing room only.
I flag down the driver, and they stop for me.
But there's nowhere to sit.
My body is screaming at me. But there's nowhere to sit.
I see you see me. But you ignore it. The broken down person who can't even find the will to stand. Let alone the energy.
You stay where you are.
Your attention is gone. You move on.

But someone else saw me.
They saw the tears in my eyes.
The pain on my face.
They saw the crutch that I lean on like I'll die if I let it go.
They stand up and offer me their seat.
I'm so grateful I want to cry.
But I can't cry in public. So I nod my head in thanks and try to smile.
I have something to be thankful for today.
But your attention is gone. You've well and truly moved on.

You don't see me today.
You wonder what's happened to the woman you've watched.
Confident, determined, distraught. She's not here today.
Instead, I am.
Beaten, battered and broken.
Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to be here, to be present, to be me, to be seen.
But my abuser can't be punished.
It's not because I said or did the wrong thing.
I wasn't in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I simply exist.
My body doesn't work the way it's supposed to.
You only see me on my good days.
Or at least, not the terrible ones.
You don't see the days where I can't cook or clean.
You don't see the days I can't get out of bed.
You don't see the days when I need a crutch to walk 10 goddamned steps.

"You don't look well."
"You're so skinny."
"Why do you look so tired?"
"What do you mean you can't leave the house today?"
"You know you don't NEED to lose weight right?"
"I know girls who would literally die to look like you."
Bitch fuck off.
You think I don't know this?
You think I don't know I'm dangerously underweight?
You think I wouldn't give just about anything to be healthy?
You think I don't know that I look like fucken crap today?
You don't think that I hate to see the way I used to be, because that's the best I ever was?
5 kilos. Please. Just let me put on 5 kilos.

I see you see me.
That glance out of the corner of your eye.
As I stand here before you and bare my soul.
I scream and I rant and I rave.
I stand here before you and I beg you.
I beg you.
To please.
Just see me.
Really, truly see me.
But your attention is gone. You've already moved on.