I lay awake sometimes
For one or two hours
I listen

I look over and see that little space between the mattress and your back
The cars outside are still driving
They fade in and out of my consciousness

I slide closer and turn on my side
T try to sink myself into the bed
As the ceiling fan mimics the sounds outside

Memories of the day continue to wash over me
I try to silence with by counting
A simple pattern

I put my hand on your arm and you are quietly sleeping

I want to constantly apologize
And I stumble over my words instead

I need to give myself a break

And I find my way to that space between the mattress and your back