It’s 1 a.m.

It’s 1 a.m.
The dreams started again.
The ones where I wake up and my entire world is distorted.
I was shaking uncontrollably.
Covered in my own sweat.
My own panic strangling me until I choked.

It’s 1 a.m. again.
That time of night where I normally reach over and find you.
The time where you bring me back into reality quicker than I can count to ten.
The time when you muffle my screams with kisses and coax me to open my eyes.
Where you remind me that what’s behind my eye lids is, in fact, scarier than what lies in front of me in the darkness of my room.

I learned quickly that the worst part about sleeping with you is the nights that my bed is empty.
Especially at 1 a.m. when I roll over to an extra pillow where your body laid just 24 hours earlier – it doesn’t seem to guard my dreams like you do.

It’s 1 a.m. and the nightmares are back – but you’re long gone.


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