My heart shook under the quivering words made slaves to your tongue.
You laugh and never explain why.
You laugh like you know secrets that cut the speeches of heroes short.
You sat and read Shakespeare.
You enjoy poetry the way villains enjoy music.
There is terror in the rhythm of your words,
the silent kind, the one you don't notice
until it's too late.

I stop to ask,
"You don't find it weird? I'm... doing this
while you're reading Shakespeare..."

"I find it romantic, really." you said, in a voice that begs to be silenced,
but crushes the one who
dares try.