Five was my favorite number when I turned six.
                    Yes I was completely aware
        I had graduated from the age of the number five.
                       But still I found comfort
                                   in 5.

                                                                     Simply because 5
                                                         represented my universe.
                                                     I loved my role model sister,
                                         My sweetheart girlfriend, best friend,
                                                    my gentle father and mother,
                                                        and my own sparkling self.

     Eight years later 4 became my newfound favorite.
           My universe had been subtracted by 1.
                        my sister that lay
            still and cold in the December ground.
               “Loss” is how it was described
                              to me.

                                          I was 18 when I was absolutely sure
                                                                                    I would
                                                stop choosing favorite numbers.
                                                                         “3!” I shouted.
                                                                         “It stops at 3.”

         Needless to say Caroline had left me too.
         Was our love not strong enough for her?
                   Long-distance, she said.
               Too much- too soon, she said.
                      Three it would stay.

                                                                     I spoke too soon.
                         My childhood companion. My precious other half
                                              became a ghost three years later.
                          “Lost soul” is how the neighbors described him.
                                                           How could he be so lost?
                                               So lonely, when I am right here?
                                                                                 I stayed?
                                                             Here I am. Come back.
                                                                            I miss three.

                     After careful thought,
         two isn’t that much of a lonely number.
                    It takes two to tango.
                It takes two hands to clap.
                     And it only takes two
               to make my universe complete.

 
                                                 I had officially deemed myself a
                                       “wandering soul”at thirty years of age.
                                                              “Wandering” is exactly
                                                        how my parents described
                                                                    themselves to me.
                                              Too wandering to be 2 anymore. 

                    Then I was left with 1.
           What a fantastical despair to know
                 the real meaning of “alone”.
              5 was too great for my universe.
                    4 was made of “loss”.
                   3 caused by “distance”.
                 2 resulted from “runaway”.
                1 was left with “wandering”.