Honey drips from my mouth,
an endless cascade of gold
sickly sweet and clingy viscous,
gluing my lips together in a
delicious wall of sugary words

and silence.

Pry it free from sticky amber,
let the bitterness flow instead
like angry bees exiting their hive.
Stingers made not of poison nor
vicious intent meant to harm,

but of brutal honesty.