Poems literally
no..figuratively
fly out of my pen
the second the clock strikes
anything after two am.
Because thats when I can grab the silence like the ripest
most patiently high apple
waiting on the top of the tree.
when I look into the darkest corner of my room
and feel poems and thoughts that are flowers
who need nothing but silence and darkness to bloom
a time when I have no distractions
and I sift through my mind
this is my time to lay flat on my floor
and decided
Sleep isn't on my list of worries
because over time I've learned the art
of waking up in a hurry
because everything is clearer
even the face in my mirror
literally
no figuratively
at anything after two am
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