The Good, The Badd, and the Ugly

Some of these aren't so great. Keep in mind I wrote this and a few others of these when I was 16.


Blank

Those angry eyes
of love, defines.
And heated speech
of love beseech.
Common motion,
a new commotion.
we softly move,
into a groove.
whispered nights,
passion heights.
The silence grows
but, only shows.
we run to touch
or, just as much.
our soft desire
growing higher
to reach the peak
which we seek.
and on it goes
and so, this prose.