Dearest 2 am:

I know we've come to depend on one another. I'm awake, waiting for you to arrive, I feel as though I can no longer sleep until you're here. Even when I might be better off tucking in at 12 or 1, I stay up to catch a glimpse of you.
You were the hardest hour for a while, the thing I had to fight through. But finally we became friends, you and I.
And now, although I hate to say it, I think I have to stop seeing you. It's time for me to return to the more reasonable hours. They don't promise your quiet and mysterious way, but they don't leave me feeling tired the next day either. And I won't do the same things with them.
But you're too much for me, I'm too old to have the kind of fun you seem to want on a regular basis. We can still go out together sometimes, maybe on a Friday or Saturday. But I can't see you every night anymore.
Let Me Sleep,
H.