How unusual,
that kind of eye contact
we say we crave
leaves me cringing.
Unfamiliar eyes
stare knowingly
through my incarnate dress
past the illusion of the way I want to be -
the person I want I really want to become -
and into the entity which I am.
{Gasp} -
discovered.
How unusual
Exposure
feels like something from my dreams
an alarmingly weird yet refreshingly natural
sense of deja vu
that leaves me speechless,
humbled before both you and myself...
I want to converse with you,
to share with you my illusions and incarnate clothes
but it seems has already been said.
How unusual,
I have nothing to say.
How unusual
that I prefer the silence.