of course I miss the spotlight
the attention, adoration, and praise
and the rewarding sort of adventure
that came with it.

but most of all I think I miss the fire.
the light and the passionate spark
ignited by being molded into a dream, fantasy world.

and I miss you, too. not necessarily
you, but the feelings I once felt:
the exhilarating ride of desire that is reciprocated.

my hair once lighter has darkened with the richness of age, shedding the naivety moment to moment, lesson to lesson, and now I ache for old times to occur once more.

everything feels heavier now; each year a new weight added to shoulders, my heart trudging along with my sunken body, hoping for something new and young to make me feel alive again.