December 16, 2008
By Kaitie Powell, Marion, IL

Your smile
Wakes up the butterflies
In her stomach.

That grin is her heroine,
The fix she needs.
Though a limited supply,
Leaves her wanting more.

Your smirk is the eighth color
Of the rainbow.
She knows not the reason,
But she feels the desire.

A puzzle
Without the picture on the box.
She pieces you together,
Ignorant of the result.

Or the banned
Only you have read.
Hiding pages for her to find.

With every smirk she sees,
A path lightens up.
Yet you hold back
And hide
Leaving her alone

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