Do you see me?

I want you to see me.

Not my lips,

Not my height,

Not my eye colour,

Not my hair length,

Not my breasts,

Not my bum,

Not my waist,

And not my hips,

I want you to see through me.

I want you to see my worth,

My intellect,

My aspirations,

My fears,

My wants and desires,

My inner beauty,

My passions,

My flaws,

And my failures.

Although you might find me beautiful,

I do not want that to be my only asset.

I am no simple girl,

In search of gratification or adoration.

I just wish to be seen,

For all my parts;

And accepted for them too.

If you must see my lips,

See the way that they curl into a smile when I laugh.

If you must see my height,

See the way my head rests just under your jawline.

If you must see my eyes,

See the way that they sparkle fiercely blue when I’m emotional.

If you must see my hair,

See the way it falls when you brush loose curls behind my ear.

If you must see my breasts and my bum,

See them as an extension of me, and not my defining features.

If you must see my waist,

See the way I curve into your arm when your hand sits on the arch of my back.

If you must see my hips,

See the way that they fit perfectly with yours.

I am not generic,

And the glorified words “You’re beautiful” do not make me swoon.

In this generation, it is more often said than believed.

I do not want to be another face in a crowd,

Or just some name on a list of past company;

Long forgotten.

I wish to be appreciated for my idiosyncratic,

And independent nature.

So, the question is:

Do you see me?

- Jamie Todd