A Series of Observations

I’m a one-way ticket to the one.
Men meet me, love me, and leave me all the same.
For the next one to be the one.

My heartache is inevitable, their luck, predictable.
Certainly, I don’t see it as luck.
For the next one to be the one.

I’m a one-way ticket to the one.
Only after I held their hand, they know precisely what to do.
For the next one to be the one.

I wonder what it is that they do not see in me.
For the next one to be the one.
I wonder how I can find luck too.
For the next one to be the one.