Borrowed Skin

I catch a glimpse in a shop window,

a reflection of someone I don’t know,

it feels like a rented apartment—

rooms echoing with shadows of long ago.

My body feels borrowed, uninhabited,

each curve, each scar, a page unturned,

yet here I am, still tracing outlines,

wondering what I missed, what I yearned.

A cracked mirror distorts my image,

fragments of light playing tricks on my mind,

as I reach for recognition in this glass,

realizing the self I seek is harder to find.