Mystery fuels this cruel and unjust silence.

Your shrouded identity keeps love at bay.

You want me to hate you--

or love you all the more?

Cloudy identities heighten the appeal,

or so it might seem to some.

Questions make mottled shadows dance over your face.

Beautiful shadows swallow the threat of danger,

making it invisible to my eyes.

You press your lips together more tightly.

Should I play this game with you?

Try to pry open the mouth that I cannot resist?

Let's dance away the questions.

That's the proposal your eyes make.

Grey eyes never looked lovelier.

No color.

No clarity.

Just muted affection.

Should I reach out and take your hand?

Should I be your partner?