Love in Poetry

Chapter 1

I used to be ignorant. Anyone who had crossed paths with me would tell you how naive and simpleminded my character was. Some would say illiterate. All of that was somewhat ironic, of course, because of my occupation at the local bookstore in England. And if it were not for that one fateful day, I would have never encountered William. William... His name calls me back to a simpler time. I could reminisce for days, recalling each of our conversations, each stitching a wound deep within my elastic heart. A time in which my life would be forever altered.

Six months prior

I stood at my post, releasing a heavy sigh as I crumbled into a comfortable chair in the reading corner. Being illiterate, I wasn't there to read, rather to think up any sort of enticing daydream that would substitute a book. The store was quiet today. Vacant. I decided to take this abnormal calm to my advantage and settled into the chair in preparation for a long awaited snooze. Perhaps approximately 4 and a half seconds passed before I heard the jingle of the bell at the door. Duty calls.
"Welcome in!," I called, in a slightly annoyed tone. I waited for the usual old man or school boy to enter my gaze, however what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Well, what hast thou feathers ruffled this afternoon?"
A deep, poetic voice emerged from a mysterious figure. "Well, at least we've got a customer," I thought. Still rather vexed, I found myself staring at this unique vessel before my eyes. His facial hair was neatly cut, his head hair kept in a bun. His brown eyes scanned over me. I noticed his earring. He was, without a doubt, interesting to say the least. Maybe I had held my gaze longer than I had intended, because before long, he spoke again.
"What troubles thou? Has the feline caught thy tongue?," he said with a smirk, almost in jest.
"You know, you don't have to speak in such a formal manner, sir," I said, finally able to regain focus.
"Well then. If you wish, my lady. However, if I drop the formality, you must drop the sir. Call me William. William Shakespeare."
"Well that was a prompt introduction", I thought, almost forgetting the name I had just received. Shakespeare... It sounded so familiar.
"To be honest, I speak in this manner for show, mostly. Similar to the way I write. People expect it, so I oblige. It is rather exhausting, though," he disclosed with a sigh.
"Why would people expect that of you? I mean, I don't talk nearly as well as you do and my vocabulary is really rather rusty," I explained. Ignorant, so ignorant.
"Wait... You don't recognize me? Alas! This is wonderful," he exclaimed.
"Why would I know you?", I wondered. Did this man really think he was that special?
"Well you're cocky, aren't you?", I laughed. Clueless, once again. And then it hit me. No wonder the name was so familiar... It covered nearly half the books in the store! Was I truly standing before William Shakespeare? Of course, I haven't been able to read his work, so in my eyes, he was still unimportant as ever. And just as cocky.
"I love the way you look when you're pondering. Fascinating, isn't it? So I'm assuming you've realized who I am by now, have you?," he smiled.
The audacity of this man! Did he really expect every woman in his sight to fall head over heels in love with him over his massive ego? Now I was truly vexed.
"Well, if you're done pouting, I'd like to know your name as well. Could you manage that?," he asked sarcastically. The same smile. The same horrible, provoking smile.
"My name is (y/n)," I huffed. "Now, is there anything else I can help you with? Or would you enjoy taunting me longer?," I asked, hoping to return to the chair in the corner, now looking more desirable than ever.
"I would love to!" Oh no...
"However, I have writing to catch up on. Farewell, my lady," he teased, as he walked out of the store, leaving me no room to form a response.
"I told you to drop the formality!," I yelled out, but he was surely too far along in his own world to hear.