4 a. m.

Some nights remind me of the way I would turn to hold you and you'd be snoring away in peace. And just when I would be loving the pretty sight, you'd wake up like you never were sleeping in the first place.

 

Some nights take me back to the cosy feeling of having you by my side. It would make me miss you, but I rather keep the comfort of your memories closer, than brood over your absence.

Some nights are restless like the fidget after a fight – turning sides and sitting uptight. Lying down again to sleep, but feeling every ounce of the existing havoc. Sometimes, I even hear the rattles in the dreams and wake up aghast. 

Sometimes, there's a cloud hovering right above me, ready to just rip apart and drench me with the thoughts of how I'd survive without you. More of, how you'd survive without me. On some nights, there's rain in the bed, too.

But some nights, there's all of this.

The comfort, the longing.
The tears, the agony.
The love, the memories.
The moments, the pain.
And more. A lot more. 

But sleep's far, far out of sight.