Curse

For all the moments you have made me wait
For that glance, a word, a smile
For every moment turned to mile
I curse you, even if you are mine to berate

In hurting you, it is I who will burn
More of my ashes will fill that urn
Smoke rising from each craving and hurt
Twice burnt, in this life of love so curt

It sears this burn, it leaves a mark
It toughens the skin that it turns so dark
It heals on top never to be cured
Pain, never so inured

Time and time again I wait in vain
For that something for which I never need to strain
It will come, itself this time, you will see
I tell myself fruitlessly

As I wait, you have the power
And I see that you see
And wield it – knowing – callously
Knowing it matters much to me

But there comes a time that a wait so true
Powered as the travesty grew
Pure love that had come to bless and grace
Turns about and finds its ugly face

The moments they turn crisp and barren
Burnt to a cinder by cold inattention
True love denied can tear asunder
Nature’s fury, watch in wonder

I curse you from the embers made cold in wait
A curse from the ruins of love turned to hate
May your food turn to ashes in your mouth
May water’s quench always leave you in doubt
May you ever be craving for the last drop of balm
May you be this alone in your last breath before becalm.
.

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