Some nights

Some nights she just gets caught up in the feeling of loneliness, the emptiness of a bed, and the solitude of her own breath, mixed with nothing but her own thoughts.
Some nights she’s fine.
Some nights the loneliness eats away at her, gnawing away at her every thought and lingering with her every sigh. It’s the heavy type of loneliness, the kind you feel on you chest, the kind that can only be cured by a warm body, or the sound of some one else’s breathing swirling with your own. But for her, it’s not always the loneliness of sleeping alone that gets her, it’s the loneliness of waking up alone. The feeling you get when you first open your eyes to see someone else soundly sleeping next to you. The way you have the ability to roll over into them and just be there in that moment, and then have the ability to fall back asleep and do it again, hours or minutes later. And to her that’s the worst type of loneliness to feel.
Some nights, she just can’t handle impeding feeling of waking up alone. So she just let’s the loneliness consume her.
Some nights, she just let’s the loneliness be.

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