What Is Love Poem by Louis Borgo

This words dear to my heart should never be spoken but never the less,
it was senses and motion,

Like a wolf to well,
that thirst must been hell,
and as if,
salt to index with in a coffin,
im embellished if to say loomed within sarcasm,

i would sit and watch being new to school,
not far from rivals,
and watch her sleep and tweeter with her pen to thought never to write,

knowing what and why only to punch down deeply on my sharpe,
like wounds, leave to shatter to lost of patient,

will she ever notice me or is it all a game.