They say nothing good happens after 2 AM
Yet here we are, on the phone again
Cherry-picking the best memories
Tiptoeing around the bad ones
Hoping one word would trigger another
Hoping that you wouldn't put down the receiver
I tried to stifle my yawn, I can hear you didn't
Listen to the clock tap-dancing to the seconds as well
It's now a battle of wills, against the eventuality of sleep
and I'm putting up a brave front
My back hurts, I've strained my neck
The phone glistens with sweat and tears
They say nothing good happens after 2 AM
Yet here we are, on the phone again
8 AM and asleep
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Confessions of a Tired Poet
कविताWhat kind of poem would you write if you stopped caring about everybody else? Confessions of a Tired Poet is a collection of short poems that gives you a backstage pass to the life of a poet who's sick and tired of his life. This is the front seat t...
