In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

I am

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I am. 

Soh hahm.

Not affirmation.

Confirmation.

Truth.

I shed my skin slowly.

Infinitely slow.

But I discard it nevertheless.

For it serves no longer any purpose.

I change my clothes.

And no one sees me new.

Yet I emerge from the dressing door clothed.

Different shoes than when I went in.

Eternal womb.

Pixabay: butterfly

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