It has been years since I have seen my reflection
I often wonder what I look like now
For every mirror only shows her face
And so does every pond I peer into
Could it be?
Oh! Could it have really happened?
That I have become her,
In loving her unhinged
I see smears of lipstick on my white blouse
I wear shirts, what manner of illusion is this?
Maybe it is a momentary phase
That could fade in a thousand years.
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