the meekest corner of the thrift store

She wears the clothes of others like a second skin.

The memories like 

tiny buckles and oversized buttons,

sewn on as an afterthought. 

She steeps herself in the past until the skin on her face is freckled.

She speaks to no one

about what the past means to her. 

It wasn't that she lived it wrongly. 

She has no regrets. 

But when they ask her, "what do you want yet?" 

She will say, "more and all." 

After all, 

she has just started to exist.