The curse

As immutable as nature’s forces,
Love and letters blade and verse,
Igniting the blood in it’s courses,
The madness of love’s curse,

Knowing you may be heartbroken,
Losing her in this verbal maze,
Interwoven with flesh unspoken,
And the finality of blood’s blaze,

But this curse in not an epithet,
Or slander or swirling swindling tongue,
For in those lips more appetite is whet,
Upon all hopes this fixture is hung,

SO pass off this burden of heart encumbered,
Be it nightingale or the lark,
Sadly all love’s days are numbered,
When you mistake the ember for the spark,