And it's not me
Not my sanctity
These are my words to you
It's all clear when it's not from here
So clear… so I'll try not to speak
His voice was his weapon, his only talent, the one thing he nursed and guarded with a fierce pride. If he chose, he could hypnotize almost anyone with his words. He had done so before, simply for the pure spite of having his way with someone else where typically he could not.
But to she, whom he loved, he rarely spoke at all. He did not want his voice, his hypnotic words, to taint her perfection. They were the only gift he had to bring her; he would not spoil such a precious reward by overuse. He wanted his voice to cast a spell over her, to create magic, to be a rare and precious thing bestowed upon her only when he was feeling particularly generous.
And he wanted, more than anything, for words to be enough. He had nothing else to offer such a one as she.
