would you shirk away from me?

To know that nothing in my life
is meaningless. Like my outfit today.

It’s all threads weaving my cells together.

These pants, remnants of my dead friend,

just 14 years since new. This sweatshirt—
my dead mom's, older than I am.
These socks, the first name-brand pair
I ever owned, bought at Costco.
A phone filled with numbers I’ll never call.
Eyeglasses that reflect a me I have not yet been,
crafted, it seems, by a celeb
who shares this girl’s name. 

Even these shoes. A brand my favorite singer

used to wear two, no three, decades ago.

I don't do aesthetic or fashion or trends.

I only live my history over and over again.