When you would try to touch me,
I felt like you couldn’t see me.
You could only see the body you were about to touch.
I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs,
“I’m here! Look at me!”
But you were in a whole other place.
I couldn’t stop you.
Or go along with you.
I tried, but I couldn’t.
I was disgusted by you and myself.
I was numb.
I stopped thinking about you.
I stopped looking for you.
And I stopped asking you to see me.