It was at first
that my disguise was 
a necessity 
and only used
at times when I felt most vulnerable.
Hiding my deformites,
hiding my malformations-
Hiding me.
But time wore on
and the camouflage I wore
became more and more
my familiar face.
You think you know me;
You know only my hunter's garb;
You know only my professional gear;
You know only
what I want you to know.
At times,
the disguise I wear
like Groucho glasses upon my face
slips and falls like the tears
that rarely slide down my cheeks
and you see me,
vulnerable, exposed,
I used to wear this 
uniform of mine like 
a badge;
I used to wear it with pride.
Now I wear it
out of habit,
or maybe out of fear
because I think
this camouflage has
made the real me rot away underneath
all the green and brown makeup.
You reach out to me,
touch me
to connect both physically & emotionally,
and I pull away
when I'd really love to stay
because that would be unprofessional.
That would ruin my camouflage.
I hate this guise of mine;
I wish I could be me 
I wish I could let you see
past my projected semblance.
I wish I had never 
borne this guise in the first place.