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Breanna Apr 2020
Gentle rain storms heighten
the scent of lilac bushes lining the fence
anticipating perennials
lively from the dampness and the sun
when days stay dry
carrying a bucket of water in one hand
walking barefoot to hydrate them
meanwhile
sunshine fruits
are being morphed into juice
behind the silk curtains
I see the wrinkled hands
firmly holding fruit peels
covered in shiny liquid
rays focus on her hands just right
this view
dripping
in citrine shades.
Lexie Rose Apr 2020
Bawling like clementine’s dripping citrus,
Pulp dribbling out our mouths; our first attempt to peel words
From our tongues an ache, perhaps trying to articulate a longing
For the Sunshine Hands that plucked us from that great tree
And peered at us with Celestial eyes.
“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - C.S. Lewis

This poem was inspired by this quote by C.S. Lewis. It has always resonated with me a lot. Whenever I read a beautiful poem, or scripture or see a beautiful painting or have a meaningful conversation, I have these moments of longing. I think it’s because beautiful things help me to feel closer to God, and I start to get an inkling of what I’ve been missing my whole life.
N Mar 2020
An eyelash stuck
on my left cheek,
she gently removes it
and tells me to make a wish

Her fingers smell like
orange peel and the sun

Her mouth tastes like
citrus and rose water

When she left I peeled an orange,
and wiped away the salty tears
with my citrus fingers

And with every eyelash
that fell on my wet cheek,
I whispered a wish
for her to come back
dycarus Jan 2020
he's summer
his body
smells like citrus
soothing
like the June wind
lonely soul,
tell him
that i love summer.
dycarus Nov 2019
purple mixed with blue
in the middle of june
you smell like citrus
it seems to be untrue

purple mixed with blue
you gave me lavender
when the sun hides
and you started to cry

green hill, cloudy sky
i could see the light
in hazel-colored eyes
violet looks blue

you said goodbye
and we became so far
purple mixed with blue
you are the last summer
and the tears of lavender
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
Squeeze gently like lemons and fruits
Sweet nectar juices produced

**** tongue close to core
Butterscotch like tapped sycamore

Perspiration seeps from peel
Porous citrus aromates near

Grown in sun among the wildflowers
Oh how I love her, even when she sours
an American
tree with
mandarin flute
that made
cute in
her high
shoes where
courtier still
glazed midland
snow with
mistletoe on
this street
as lit
for shop
till the
new year
was shone.
market street in usa
Alex Greenwell Apr 2018
The smell of bleach is overwhelming,
but my mother always liked the smell.
She would mix bleach with a splash of lemon and the smell of sickly citrus would
drift through the house.
She would spend hours on the floor, scrubbing
each baseboard and kitchen tile.
Each swish of the mop would bring my mother
closer to God.
But for me, the fumes seemed to shake my mind and cause each ridge in my brain
to sweat.
My head succumbing to the pressure of finding my home
sterilized,
like some hospital.

Bleach burns. Once I let my hand slip into that lemon-scented pail,
feeling the itch rise up my wrist.
It felt similar to the Holy Spirit rising through my
chest during each Sunday service.
An antiseptic,
a decontaminate, something that desensitized and purified.
So, I began to rub my hands, with a spiritual fever,
letting my skin flake from each coat of
lemon-scented cleanliness.
But somehow, I never felt clean enough.

I never felt sanctified.
XIII Sep 2017
Your curves
Your lines
Every strokes
I wish it's mine

Your portrait
Your stern trait
When it melts
Huge urge is felt

Jaw opened
To the point of drooling
Lips bit
Sends me imagining

I hold my breath
I grit my teeth
I wet my lips
As my body shakes

Black or white
Or colored in sight
Your beauty seems alive
You're the epitome of my desire

And so I close this book
Put it on a stack of volumes
For this is the painful truth
You're just a character inside **Citrus
To Aihara Mei of Citrus manga.
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