On the high and low ends
I wish for the ice to fill puddles
I had sex last night.
And my heart pounds through my body,
When she wants me but I'm still unsure.
Especially when getting less than I am giving.
"Damnit look!"
I say ten hundred times.
"Who is he?"
God given grace with a face you could praise.
The pushovers are left infatuated.
*This poem is created with one line from each student in my Artists Among Poets class. I wanted to randomly find lines and then compose them together with an overall theme.
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