Writing Prompt

Paper boats

the ones we used to make

the scent of lemons

like the detergent we used to use

and tears,

tears that left my body after you left,

left the world....

Paper boats,

Float across the waves,

Scribbled notes,

Blowing above the graves,

Strong scented lemons,

Bitter sweet moments,

Swept up in time,

Strong scented lemons,

Will they always shine,

Yes,

They make you cry,

Tears fall from you chin,

I know you will win,...

The tang of lemons

Salty tears of sea water

Rumble of a boat motor

Refreshing breeze over my face

This is what real peace feels like

———

(Hey guys! This is short poem is about my vacation that I took late July. The prompt was perfect because lemons is what Sorrento is known for! Anyway I have a lot of finished stuff in my drafts that I was going to spam publish in the next coming days but ...

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...