She dresses every morning in her invisible clothes.  They are sexy and mostly dark, black being preferred, and they are expensive because she has dreams and promises to keep.  No eyes will touch her true self, no one can see how she shines like the coat of a sleek horse in the sun.   The strangers, and most are strangers, will never know her beauty.  Yet, she must leave the house and face the day and so it is, year after year, up from the bed of her nightmare, until slowly she begins to tear along little dotted lines in her skin.  Again, few understand because they cannot see, but sometimes she shows others, those with right eyes, with long eyes, with deep eyes, and she points to where she bleeds and they become her friends and together she sleeps with the depressed and the destitute and all the bodies of…