Some nights:

Wakes up, goes to get a glass of water.
Braids in her hair and the kitchen light in her eyes,
Squinting, five years old again.

Goes back to bed, quietly, doesn't want to make noise.
Sleeping, he still grabs her waist.
His arm is warm.

Feels his heart,
Or is it hers?
Can't sleep, thinking too much.

Shit.
What if this is it?
What if this is all life has to give you?

Fuck. Stupid. Crying now.
Quietly.
Don't want to wake him.

Do you stay? Or do you go?
What if one day you decide you want something else?
What if one day it's too late?

The tears stop.
Thinking about tomorrow. Big day, lots of work.
Sleeps.