Paid for with the currency of time,
Many caffeinated nights
spent wading through the bracken
of childhood nostalgia
emerge like the layers of an onion
memoirs of a colorful past.
painted with oils and syntax,
watercolors and diction,
pastels and concrete imagery,
graphite and metaphor,
charcoal and irony,
until alas, the unveiling of completion
revealed the price tag of your tears.
Their salty splendor
stained my studio floor
with art.

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