paper boats still sink

and happy lemon colors leave a bitter taste behind

like fake smiles during Christmas time

rivers are just tears collected

where paper boats still sink and bitter lemons grow...

I’m with someone new now

They don’t smell like you do

At times I smell lemons

Just to be reminded of you

The tang jerks my lips to smirk

And my eyes to well

I used to hate that bittersweet

conflicting taste

Now it is all that lingers on my tounge

I’m with someone new now

They’re not as creative as you

Do you remember

Those oragagomy nights we used to have ?

I still can’t make them

You kn...

_Watch with me her last moments, her last breaths…_

__

Laughter of me and my daughter pours out the speaker of my phone.

Icecream cascades down my hand melting off the cone

while Tears stream down my face as I watch her last moment.

Moments of her where she rowed a crooked paper boat.

I lick the melting liquid off my hand,

my nose poking into it, picking up it’s lemon scent,

Lemon was always...

I remember

We used to play with paper boats

Watching as they float

I’d always wondered why

I remember

The scent of lemons on your T-shirt

Which somehow always matched my skirt

I’d always wonder why

I remember

You asked me on a date

It felt like it was fate

I’d always wonder why

I sit here

Tears running down my face

Missing the paper boats

Missing the matching clothes

Missing the first date

I ...

A cloudy day brings a muted light through the window

The kitchen sink looks out to a brick wall.

I look out to the rust colored pits and mountains millimeters high never seeing a sea of green and blue that even prisoners are allotted.

It’s raining inside.

No wait.

Those are my tears.

Tiny ripped corners of single serving spice pockets are like sail boats sloshing over the salty puddles fallin...

I never got to make paper boats.

Oh, to have been that child

The one who lived across the street,

Piles of paper surrounding him.

Oh, to have been that child

The one whose mother made fresh lemonade

Which I could smell but never taste.

Oh, to have been that child

The one whose father comforted him as he cried

Placing a bandaid on his skinned knee

Oh, to have been that child…...

Paper boats drift in the gutter’s stream,

tiny vessels of a childhood dream—

ink-smudged names and folded wings

sailing beneath the breath of spring.

The scent of lemons clings to air,

fresh and sharp and oddly fair,

like sunlight pressed through fingers thin

or laughter where a storm had been.

A drop falls—salt, not rain—

tears that neither cleanse nor stain,

just shimmer in the morning hush

an...

Why do some kids get to make paper boats

And smell like lemon pie

While all i get to do is cry

Why do some people get to love

And never to lose

When I have never gained

Why do some people get so much

And nevwr have to be pushed to the side

Meanwhile I am always left behind

Why do some kids have it easy

And everything comes naturally

While all I can do is write

Why do some kids get to be hap...

the sound of water splashing,

and edges of paper crumbling.

and the wails of my younger sisters rambling.

i could hear it all,

even the scent of the lemon,

the lemon that fell upon the pond.

the same pond where our boats would set sail.

she clung to me like the branches on a tree,

i tucked her hair behind her ears,

like grandma used to do.

as we watched the lemon float.

it was all loud.

the whi...

A loving Father’s Day poem

The camera clicks,

A light flashes

A photo,

A moment frozen in time

When two people,

Share a memory

As long as I can remember,

You’ve been there

Kind, creative, and loving

Hardworking, caring, and funny

Looking back at the photos

The memories

I find myself lost,

Lost in the sweet scent of lemon,

When you were cooking

Or lost in the depths of the ocean,

When we...