They say
the odds are thinning—
like my hair
in the shower drain.
I count myself
among the improbable.
Decent posture.
Guarded pulse.
Individually
my parts seem to add up.
A funny mouth.
A laugh that infects.
Strong legs
that carry me for miles.
But together
the equation won’t balance.
My ex catalogued his “friends”
like a museum curator.
Look at this one.
Look at that one.
Such works of art.
I paled beside them—
a drawing
for a mother’s fridge.
On the screen
a man kneels.
He calls her
the hottest woman in the world.
She looks plain,
like me.
But his love rearranges
the light around her.
I fold in half.
No one kneels.
No one speaks my name.
Numbers do not favor me.
Love is a lottery ticket.
All my numbers
are wrong.
Statistics confirmed.
I exist.
The world spins.
About the Creator
Tina D. Lopez
I’m just a human trying to make it in this world. I write about heartbreak, loneliness, longing, anger, family—all the things I can’t seem to leave alone. Everything I write is about me, even when it’s about someone else.
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