Golden Girls & Their Public/Private Hells

I look at you,
old Hollywood face
and droopy blue eyes.
Blonde are your curls,
golden in the limelight.
I wonder
what it is like for you
to open up
your vulnerability
for publicity.
Do you have space
to grieve in privacy?
How much
must you give up
of yourself,
your experiences
for the catharsis
of others?
Do you daydream
that you were
once again
unknown?
Loved subtly
and softly
and wholly.
At night,
do you lie awake
wondering
if you had ever made
the wrong choice?