Sweetness, and softness were old friends seldom heard from.
I’d hear them scream for me on sunny days, when honey rays sang from the skies.
But more I hear their stoney silence in this winters kingdom come.
I long for their flowery words and hopeful hands but instead I hold our broken ties.
I wonder what sweetness would say to the rage that paints my face.
Perhaps a spoonful of sugar and a ...