I wonder how you hide your <br />happiness with happiness <br />and assume it is happiness too. <br /> <br />I cannot write. I haven't <br />claimed the right to write, to <br />make the words that I write <br />come true, like stars. It's all <br />written in the stars. <br /> <br />You are a star that used to <br />shine, with your spangles and glitter <br />and what not. And when you shone, <br />you shone happiness, happiness <br />with an ignorant burning feeling <br />that left me in complete <br />ecstacy.<br /><br />Ballerina With Fins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aging/
