A curse is far more potent than a wish;
a mirrored surface, tarnished with regret.
You cannot counter misery with bliss
when love is just a thinly-veiled threat.
A curse is envy in another guise;
a copper-coated weight inside your gut.
Sometimes the absence is the greater prize
and that which once was open must be shut.
A curse can be a masquerade of hope:
a shifting silver slither of belief.
We are the patterns in kaleidoscopes;
we twist and turn to circumvent our grief.
Infinity is malice, only worse.
A lie provides the kindness in a curse.