It’s 3 AM.
The wound is still fresh, still raw, and I wake up only to realize it’s 3 AM. It’s 3 AM and my heart is breaking; an unbearable pain has struck my heart that hasn’t allowed me from getting any decent sleep. It all started because I made the decision that you couldn’t ever make.
Thus while the bed is empty, I can still feel you sleeping beside me. The presence of you holding my hand while we fell into a slumber still feels fresh and yet it’s nothing but a memory. No, you’re not making it easy for me, sending my world to a screeching halt.
It’s 3 AM and my wallowing heart continues to shed tears. Streaming tears that you’ll never see or wipe from my face because you gave up on us awhile ago.
2 weeks later and I still wake up at 3 AM wishing you’re beside me. It’s been progressively worse because the nights feel longer, the room colder, and the mornings hell. It’s 3AM and I know that you just woke up so you can go for your morning training session. And I’m here coming to grips that Thursday evenings are no longer reserved for our date nights. Tonight the bed will have 1 less guest and the room will be emptier than before.
It’s 3 AM and I can hear my heart splitting from the middle, and I want it to stop.
It’s 3 AM and all I wish for right now is for this to all be a dream.
It’s 3 AM and I’m hurting inside, but you will never know.
It’s 3 AM…