One day you'll wake up from the scream of your alarm clock.
You'll rise, despising every minute of it as you dress and brush your teeth.
You'll kiss her goodbye and head out for the 30 minute commute to a job you hate.
You'll sit at your desk, watching the clock while your boss breathes down your neck about numbers for an annual report.
Five o'clock will hit and you'll sigh because the drive back is always a *****.
You'll come home to her waiting for you, tell the kids to listen to their mother.
Dinner is meatloaf, her parents want to come visit next month.
You can't watch the game because The Voice is still on and, you promised the kids you'd let them play video games for half an hour before bed.
By the time ten rolls around and you've finally gotten to see the last inning of the game, you'll be called to bed because she's got an early morning and doesn't want to wait for you.
It's Wednesday so you have mediocre *** and when you finish, you still feel incomplete.
She'll clean up and come back to bed, only to fall asleep within minutes.
You'll stare at the ceiling.
You'll wonder why you felt off today as you drift off into sleep.
But you'll wake up at 2am.
You'll jolt into consciousness and know why today just wasn't right.
You'll still know the touch of my face, the warmth of my arms, and the heat in my glare.
You'll know I was the one that got away.
And I swear, you will regret it.