I watch him he is an iron door held tight though which silver slivers of starlight peek like tiny flames through a sieve of solitude he opened it a crack once with a small gesture of... something love, or like, or hope... of somesort but closed it up again before I could ever realize how... sad it all was and so I continue to knock uselessly at the iron door but sadly he has eaten the key and I shall never know his starlight again.