not for real, but what else do you call it?

He gave love a name
and tucked skeletons
under the stairs to rust.

Using too-big words
in order to taste asphalt
was almost as cancerous
as saccharine rhetoric.

He prays for her death,
and she pulls at his scabs.
Smoke the bitch out.

Tags: anger, cancer, malice, poem, poems, poetry, poetry blog, poets, poets corner