Take the softest silk, I said,
  and tear it into shreds. Take the smoothest porcelain
  and smash it to the ground.
That's my heart -
                        Don't start, he said, pressing a finger against my lips
and giving me that same sweet smile that drew me in.
                        Don't start - he pulled his fingertip across my mouth
then kissed me with the same delicate gentleness which first stunned me.

His bind around my soul tightened with his words -
                                                                     Don't start, my love,
  don't complain. Be still, my beautiful angel, don't cry.
  My lashes met my cheeks to stay the lachrymose droplets, hot springs
  of heartbreak and frustration.

My lips half-parted to speak but his eyes met mine
  and I fell silent once more.
  It is not my place to question him
  it is not my place to ask.
  The razor-sharp wire around my heart
                                      is coiled tight.

Don't start, he says, pressing his lips to my forehead
  and like all good women, I am silent.