My Anger Is A Home

They say bright yellow is the color of infidelity,
But I've seen it, and it's deep chartreuse.
I've looked at it and skipped a beat,
Named all my unborn children,
and shamelessly gave them your last name.
My lover is quite the family man,
But he never had one,
So, he played house in the home I made.
My lover wears suits frequently.
Deception is his professional business suit.
His favorite suit is Lying, he dons it so often.
He keeps Hypocrisy specially for family gatherings and holidays.
I made him a cardigan, crocheted it from the veins of my Loyalty,
But he had nowhere to wear it to;
So, he locked it in the attic with his past-life's skeletons.  
My lover is a shitty Broadway actor.
He plays a generous saint and grants me all his sins.
He accuses me of being paranoid and unreasonably wrathful,
He said, -convincingly so-
That the lipstick stain on his collar
and my lips are two pieces of the same puzzle;
And all my cages are mental.
My lover was a contagious infection.
But I eradicated him before he spread to my lungs,
Now I breathe flames each time I speak.
Oh lover,
My anger is not a house without a home!
And your yellow smile and dreamy eyes aren't that convincing.
So, pack up your fancy suits, we're paying all your ghosts a visit.
Save all the adorable defense mechanisms you've learned on stage,
And tell your mother I said Hi,
and thank God I never had to meet your father.
But since you're getting no applause at the end of this play,
I'll be writing the epilogue before the curtain call...
See, I'm not so ruthless after all.