enaj.adlaremse

enaj.adlaremse

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waltz

ghosts waltz through the snow and leave traces of their former self. footprints leading up to my door. thick bushes caked in white. uncertain cars on dangerous roads. winter.

mop

the mop slipped lazily on the floor. the handle was in slow motion, a stop motion movie at two frames per second.

hotel lobbies speak to me in strange tongues. the people around me crave to be anywhere but here, seeking solace in champagne and swinging chandeliers, beds that have been slept in by others just like them.

her tears started fading when the morning light filtered through her tattered curtains. she blinked one eye open and blearily shifted her gaze to the scratches on her chest. they had healed quickly, leaving only faint white ghosts of their former selves. ghosts of what they used to be. the bruises on her thighs were now putrid greens and bloody blues. the gash on her arm had swelled up but seemed to be getting better. she rolled over in twisting floral sheets to grab for a bottle of wine she knew to be on the nightstand. uncorked it and took one sip to wake up, the next for good luck. finally forced her legs onto the dusty hardwood floor and commanded them to walk her to the bathroom. the faucet turned on with a blink. a new day.

when i first met her holding our breath beneath a sea of stars she hated that she couldn't breathe then i held her hand and showed her the pointy cactus coral the sun bleached seashell skulls and the fluorescent snakes swimming through the sand. she didn't seem to mind our constant underwater expedition when we shared oxygen beneath the galactic waves.

your face gets all red and scrunched up when you're angry. you think it's ugly but i think it's kinda cute, the way you're so irritable about every little thing. scratch that, i don't think it's cute, i think it's adorable. of course, telling you this will just make you angrier.

the cactus was facing west when i saw her. she seemed about to take flight sunset colors that outshone the moon eyes so bright i thought they were my salvation musical hands and a weathered perseverance.

desert drenched stomach wrinkled eyes cactus lungs sharpened tongues western drought changes the horizon

can you relate? do you know empathy like i know the sound of you leaving my room? can you feel the tears in my eyes as they drip on your haphazard footprints and mix with the dust on the floor?

i relate to the sunflowers that float on the sea the shells under the surf the sand stuck in your hair your best friend that you've loved since childhood the clementines you share on the beach i also relate to the fact that this poem is horrible i'm sorry bye

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writing since 2017 · 16 entries · 9 days shown up

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on this day 9 years ago

esmé wrote about fading
“her tears started fading when the morning light filtered through her tattered curtains. she blinked one eye open and blearily shifted her gaze to the scratches on her chest. they had healed quickly…”

the words esmé reaches for

fieldseyeswhitetearsrelatefloorcactusghostswalkflowershandshorizonscratchnailstwicehungry