"Odd Numbers"

That drunken smile did nothing for me
I sit on my windowsill at night replaying your laugh in my head
I notice the details, not the obvious ones like she does
The freckle on your left cheek closer to your bottom lip than your top lip
How many of your eyelashes face up; how many face down
The imperfect blemish above your right eyebrow
That’s what we are, imperfect
Imperfect like your face, your nose, your freckles, your eyelashes
They always come out in odd numbers, the ones facing up and the ones facing down
Your nails are uneven, splitting, like the ends of your hair
She sees your beautiful blue eyes, and your soft, supple lips
She notices your dark, dessert skin and your well-parted hair
She chose you like the spider chose its prey
As for me, all I can do, is sit here imagining what no one else would think to look for
Is this what I chose for myself, a lifetime of windowsills and imperfect eyelashes
No, you chose it for me, when you looked deep into my eyes and whispered those words
Your eyelashes come out in odd numbers, the ones facing up, the ones facing down
Then you kissed them, sentencing me to a world of dark, bleak, despairing windowsills