Running my fingers through items
That will never touch my skin
Gives a false sense of accomplishment.
Proof that I still know what's fashionable
And could still fit the tighter garments of my youth.
Fooling myself for a few brief moments
As I take an item to the fitting room
About who it could transform me into for an evening
Before placing it back on the rack where it belongs
For a woman that needs it more than me.
