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 ...