Insecurity rears it's ugly head in this relationship about a beautiful young woman I dated during my junior year in high school.  A college writing teacher once told me I should avoid using commas since I didn't know how to use them.  Looking at this poem (and having removed some commas) I tend to agree.

Untitled I
by Glenn A. McGrew II
4/14/84

Does she love me,
does she care?
Does she need me,
does she dare?
Does she want me
late at nite?
Or am I
just a Saturday Fright?
Will we last
or is this to be the past?

Oh,
I wonder late at night,
with the music and the light.
I think of many things.
Are we past,
will we fade?
Will we last,
are we jade?
What does spring bring?
Is it meant to be
or is it too late for such as we?