Broken-In Girl

I fit well, like those old jeans
sent through the wash dozens of times
hung out to dry
or tumbled in the heat until the fibres are worn

faded in the parts where your knees pressed in
not your best, but good for weekends
familiar, unassuming
you don't remember me until you go looking for comfort
and I'm there.
Like always.
Put away.
Out of sight, out of mind.

Second-hand useful
once new, pre-loved
whatever you like to call it
A good investment of twenty-five bucks.

Prized, but not paraded.