A Poem Half Written

I've started dancing , again and I find myself whole, somewhere between dance and poetry , Half-made, standing Sculpted, broken into a thousand pieces, Still , eyes half-open, embracing myself dancing, making pirouettes after pirouettes after pirouettes dancing... singing poetry... poetry meant for someone else someone who's never gonna know that there is a poet who writes little poems for him ; which she keeps confined for she cannot let them open because all they know is to create chaos..