Found in rainbows.
Black and grey in-between.
Like the darkest deeds to an envious man.
Hidden in plain sight.
Illuminate with the perfume of regret.
Sticky and sickly.
It causes the teeth to itch.
And the dreams to flinch from yesterday’s call.
When will those traumas fade?
Never, replies the well in our soul.

“Sticky and sickly.
It causes the teeth to itch.” Great lines & imagery as always, Mark. You continue to amaze me.
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Thank you Tara, this one had been scratching in my mind for a while, sloshing with colours. Glad you liked the final product.
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Very much!
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How many rivers of tears must we cry
Before all the deepest wells run dry
Splash! Into the well we drop a cemetery stone
Splash! Loaded memory tears follow
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The floods will rise, to wash it all away?
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Yea .. they usually do
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