ivory ellis.

ahead of our time.

"Just Like Heaven" was playing but I wasn't sitting shotgun and you weren't late for curfew and the odds weren't in my favor.

You danced through my kitchen today and I realized just how many of you have let me breathe into your chest in the doorframe.

Because hearts get worn but my hands aren't heavy now. Not yet. This isn't good for me quite yet.

We aren't supposed to have to learn goodbyes.

Not yet.

8:41 PM
2 Comments

true story.

This is a true story about how nobody ever took my crayons.

I just forgot about them.

Maybe I realized that watercolors look more elegant and colored pencils more sophisticated and nobody ever takes crayons seriously anyways and maybe I used to believe that being taken seriously was worth more than my crayons.

But this is a true story about how I danced with you last night and all I wanted was for nobody to take me seriously.

I'm not asking you to let me be a child, I would just like to base my decisions off of whims rather than logic now please.

9:28 AM
5 Comments

paris, baby.

I only have two stamps in my passport.

Two stamps.

Three weeks, roughly.

But Paris is on the list, baby.

I want her streets and her rain to swallow my shoes.

I want her autumn to sting my lips and her language to infiltrate my dreams like a thousand marching men flood a valley.

Paris is the list.

And we're all very much aware that August just took her last breath, so maybe next summer. But I'll keep wanting.

Because I want Paris.

4:34 PM
1 Comments

hello ivory.

I just want my words to be worth reading.

I want you to know me without ever hearing my name.

(it could happen you know.)

I want each of you to know I will always choose people over sleep, chocolate over vanilla, and honestly any road before treadmills. I want you to believe me when I say that not-quite-18 doesn't mean I'm not ready for the East Coast and you can't wear high tops with shorts. Hear me when I say that I could make you a list of every swear word I've ever said and boy I've ever kissed but you can't convince me that open eyes see more than open hands. I know mountains are good for you and some memories look better on paper and words are for making people move.

And let me just say,

Paris is for me.

8:01 AM
8 Comments

stars & stories

We wanted a grand finale to seal up our summer, one night to define three months worth of curfews.

We wanted goodbyes to never sting but if we're being honest I cried siting inbetween J & C yesterday.

We wanted the cuts to scar just so we'd have a story to tell, and for snocones to never get old and for just a few more people to come full circle.

And maybe we didn't get everything on our list, but no one ever does.

So we'll make do with blonde ponytails and rain on the asphalt in burgess and a night where the grass was far more comfortable than any movie theater. We'll take new faces and warm hands and we'll dance at a stranger's wedding. Pack sleeping bags we didn't use and watch the stars set in.

Just sit tight, and let the stars set in.

10:21 AM
2 Comments

weekend

Find music loud enough to shake the dust and save your thoughts for Monday.

9:22 AM
1 Comments

the last bits of 17

She bought pretty dresses and pretty words.

And it didn't matter from which mouth they spilled, so long as the strung-together sentences glistened when they hit the air.

She watched 17 fade along with the hands that had shaped it, but she didn't mind all that much either.

Backyard volleyball courts and fushia nail polish and jeep rides have been stamped into the pages, but 18 calls for a new book and a new pen and a slightly new hand to pull it along.

Cryptic poems and faded songs began to lose their pull, but U2 never will and neither will sunday socials or friendly wars that leave us wanting more.

(mama said to always leave them wanting more)

So here's to 17 and the last few weeks of it I've got. She's done me well, but 18's words will be even brighter.