Your heart’s asylum

An anthracite womb

Birthing illusion

I held you principal


A lesser known heaven

In that deep black well

An unvoiced constellation


I imbibed the sand

Of a derelict palace

Within you

There was no Prince

Only a more

Preposterous incendiary


Love is a curse

When day after day

It remains unsought

But for confirmation

A compulsory worship

I endowed your ego

In the absence

Of reciprocating



I believed

In a cause unshared

To withdraw now,

The purpose

Which has become

My being,

Is unbearable

So I endure

And in enduring



This is fictional so you can sigh with relief encase you were worried! I am writing this in response to Sunday’s prompt: Curse. I have been so busy on the weekends lately hence my prompt responses being a little early these last few weeks.


25 thoughts on “Curse

  1. Curse???? Oh my…..its getting darker and darker around WP these days. πŸ™‚ Loved this piece, of course especially, “There was no Prince
    Only a more
    Preposterous incendiary”

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