Paper boats, gliding across an open lake

We never thought it’d reach the other side

A note at stake that we thought would sink

In prayer that so will the thoughts we hid inside

The scent of lemons as we sat by each other

Crossing our arms over ourselves, protecting ourselves like our mothers

Should have, should have held us when they had the chance

But we are far away now

Our tears become kites that we fly up in the breeze

To have some sort of embrace, though rather cold

We know that where we go is up where we seem to be

But even our senses are wrong, our emotions not so keen

The smell of sweet salt dances in the air,

As if teasing our eyes once again

To be met with the cheeks until going down our cheeks

Into our hands in a closet

The sweet tang of lemon as a message is written

Burned, the repeated

Through this cycle that we once called life, a game we don’t care to lose

So once again we watch as the paper starts to glide

But instead of the paper boat so carefully folded

A plan with wings made of a feather sets free among the wind

Over the river, over the mountains, over that lake to what we’ve sent

Where it shall go, we’ll never know

And we hope for the words to drown again

To dissolve before reaching the dear God’s hand

Written of travels over his beautiful, broken land

We hope that it remains unread,

But he read our lips before the thoughts were even said