My crayon was stolen
I searched and re-searched
even checked my box.
Asked every kid
for my special one,
I would trade my blocks.
The one in the corner,
apart from the crowd
stuck to the shadows
said nothing out loud.
I felt his eyes on me
I marched up knowing what I had to do.
Then I saw
that sly smile, and those piercing eyes.
He knew what he'd done, weak was his disguise.
My crayon beside him,
a single red heart drawn on his page.
Suddenly, I didn't want my crayon back.
I still see those eyes and that smile
but only in my dreams,
his soft, luring voice
makes me wake up in screams.
Magic is a stupid word,
I thought it was what we had
I gave more than a crayon to him
and he was so smug and glad.
Everything happens for a reason,
or so I've been told.
Every ounce of my dignity shred
stupid,reckless
he laid me on his bed.
And the reason?
All because that stupid crayon
was red.
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