By Leonard Pigg

The stew of betrayal hung heavy in the air at Love's Kitchen
Staff would come and go at their leisure, not yours
Confusion and ambivalence were standard appetizers
Broken hearts and twisted minds were a staple there
Nerves are usually deep-fried on a regular basis
All dishes were served cold as the grave
Despite being upwind of the place
He could smell it from a mile away
Knowing the darkness that beat within his chest
Meeting others that could see the shadow behind the smile
Eventually being asked the immortal question
To be the executioner of one's passions
Seeing a person undone from the inside
Reminded him why he would rarely venture to such a place
There was far less confusion in that emotion
Hence, fear was chosen over love