Question

It's like this, the minute you begin, you end with a conundrum in the form of a web... what connects you to me is...well...a mystery of sorts. What are those broken wings you try to fly with? What dreams keep you awake at night? And how is it that a wall is between us but I can still see you as clear as day? Why is the moon brightest in freezing temperatures? Why are you beautiful when the leaves are fallen and you just stand there with trees as skeletons and its cold and I can see your breath as I watch your chest rise and fall? What mystery do you hold behind those eyes?

Reviews

[Wharton]

Those seem like lonely questions and actually are more like silent ones than actually those you might vocalize. You actually ask several but they are all connected by this desire to know more...I think. We are all conundrums in one way or another. Nice write.:)