4:27 AM

I lay in my bed, 4:27 AM.
Sheets tangled around me.
Country love music in the background.
4:27 AM.
I've stressed about the dirty kitchen, the bills, and things needed for the house.
I lay here thinking about how you're asleep, alone, 20 minuets away in your bed.
4:27 AM.
I lay here thinking what if I don't make it? What if I can't finish college or never find the right career?
What if I can never be the best mom, and only put in effort like my mom until my oldest is just barely 19?
What if I never have enough money to support us?
What if you find someone else?
4:27 AM.
What I am doing with my life right now is okay, but am I going to get through?
I don't want to be alone in this bed anymore.
I want to roll over and have you here.
I want to feel your breath on my neck, shallow and warm.
Your arm around me, when I lay wide awake thinking about how my life is crashing.
Instead of laying here, 4:27 AM with tear filled eyes, my body shaking from stress, and my throat in a know.
4:27 AM.
I love you, and will never be able to express it enough. I want to be able to spend the rest of my life with you, until 4:27 AM on my last day.
The way I catch you staring, and how I can block out the cat calls with your simple smile.
The adventures in the pick up, or the sheets.
4:27 AM.
I don't want to be here, in 4:27 AM, alone.
Anymore.
I lay here.
I lay in my bed, 4:35 AM.