There’s something in the walls that only I can hear. A whisper, a shiver, a pulse of fear. You say it’s nothing, hush my doubt, But shadows flicker, twist about. The lamp’s thin flame is guttering low, Your voice is sweet, but your eyes don’t glow. Curtains breathe when the night stands still, Wallpaper writhes with a fevered will. The mirror’s grin is crooked, wrong, It