3A.M.

My eyes try to focus on the silent, screaming lit clock. 3 am has gotten the best of me another night in a row. Ripped from my sleep to be reminded I’m alone. And if it’s any constellation at all, I still look for you on the pillow next to me. And I fade into these cold sheets that you’ve once known so well. The clock loses my attention and the graceful ticks of my wrist watch ease my racing heart as I fall back into the position that has held my comfort for over a year now. My lonely comfort that’s grown too familiar.

You’re absorbed in my mind as it finds peace in my heavy eyelids. And my heavy eyelids find peace in trailing sleep.

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