And sometimes I wish I wasn’t perceived at all. I know you could run your hands over the curve of my hips but I really wish you wouldn’t. I wish you could tell me what my favorite color was before you ran your eyes over my body slowly undressing me with your imagination. I wish I knew I was worth more then a pair of tight jeans and a low cut shirt. I wish you could see me without ever looking at my body and I wish I could see you without ever needing a drink after. And maybe you could just see me instead of believing you could sleep with me. The other day you told me you could fix me but I didn’t know I was the one that needed to be fixed. You tell me my mind is a little messy but my body is perfectly fine. Maybe ask me if I’m okay instead of looking at my lips like you want something more. I leaveyou with my heart sore from being percieved instead of seen.