ivory ellis.

taking heart & paying bills.

Honey your heart is a telescope.

I'm tracing constellations you put together of your own stories

like I'm watching reruns of sophomore year through its lens.

Its walls are worn thin from 18 years of pacing

like someone couldn't make up their mind.

There are stars there, too.

but some of them are far colder than they were meant to be.

Most likely there's a moon

tugging one way or another.

And someone labeled your moon a "conscience"

but I'm not sure who was in charge of that.

And you didn't know this but its surface is anything but smooth

almost like a fingerprint.

And I think God did that on purpose

so that when hearts brush up against each other they leave a mark.

And then He gave your heart a sanctuary

hidden under bone.

And then he let those ribs crack

and those walls bruise.

And now, darling,

you get to decide if this heart of yours is worth the insurance.

6:04 PM
5 Comments

pre-nostalgia

I'm home at last and I still haven't slept in my own bed since Thursday.

It has nothing to do with your arms and everything to do with songs we aren't even allowed to listen to and goodbyes that won't sting our lips for another six months yet they're forever sitting in the back seat.

It's the girl that hated me in the fifth grade, but we keep ending up on eachother's carpet, fingers tripping over split ends and piano keys and she's crying to me about the lips that had no idea what fully invested meant and I'm running scenarios by her I wouldn't dare to admit to my sister.

And then there's the one that was pounding the pavement right next to me the night after I got my first kiss because I was terrified and the only things I had under control were my own feet. So we ran.

And another that was sitting shot gun before she'd even heard my story. And then she was at my kitchen counter with the rest of them.

I got a letter in the mail yesterday.

Return address was one who left that same counter for a different continent. But I'm still checking my email 19 times every Monday because nostalgia has a funny way of making you substitute words for people. Six of them in particular.

10:03 PM
4 Comments

the nature of lungs.

roll your shoulders forward to protect your heart

remember hallways are more than to & from

goodbyes aren't always worth the breath

do your calculus homework

if only for the sense of accomplishment

organized hearts are rarely worth holding

rib cages are invincible for today alone

let the stars keep their stories

forgive the mothers & fathers

keep your heels on the pavement

take your vitamins

don't wait for the oxygen to come to you

because there are those that have to ask for it.

i just hope your lungs always do what they're supposed to do.

4:52 PM
4 Comments

push & pull.

you asked me to write about death,

but all that comes to mind is hands.

hands

on the small of my back.

fingers

on my scalp.

prints

everywhere they shouldn't be.

there's a vulnerability to it.

and I'm flipping back through the pages

looking for your arms

but arms are nothing without hands,

and these hands

these hands

these hands are pushing me towards the edge.

it is constant

it is steady and patient,

and only the narrator can put them on pause.

these hands have got me writing a bucket list,

they've got me despising cold sheets

and empty friday nights.

sleep is for the young,

curfew-breaking for the careless,

for the ones who pay the hands no attention.

last night a boy turned and took those hands,

I'd like to ask if they were warm.

and exactly what they spelled out on his spine in order to get his attention.

and I'd like that tragedy to make your skin cold,

and I'd like to pound out

any

single

word

that would somehow warm his mind.

and I would like my cursor to breathe,

for him,

for me,

for anyone who needs it.

I'd like to say I understand.

I'd like to tell you about tomorrow,

and I'd like you to trust my hands

instead of the ones pressed against your back.

because the rest of us have become awfully good at ignoring them.

8:17 AM
6 Comments

run-on sentences + the universe.

I'm being quite honest when I say that this is not a poem. Anything but, in reality.

This is me shouting out to the universe for a moment about people and places and days that matter.

This is a thank you note to fathers because even if I'm never quite sure if mine is in the same state as me, that's alright because he still likes to come up with lovely little plans for my future (even if I'll never be the entrepreneur he's crossing his fingers for).

And today I'm just happy that the universe or the Almighty or whoever you would like to think is in charge is someone other than me, because today I don't have to decide who ought to be born where or what congress needs to vote on. Not yet, anyways.

And also I'd like to put in a request that it rains this week.

Simply because it's always nice for the pavement to be coated in something other than dust and sunlight. And also because I bought rain boots.

I'd like to thank the universe for movies like "The Parent Trap" and Saturdays and books about the holocaust because humans have to see sad things in pretty forms if we are going to admit that they belong to us.

Oh, and I'd like to thank humanity for nice people that offer rides home and playlists and please we can even take turns being that person. Rotations are fully acceptable.

And the fact of the matter is, a large majority of you have lost interest by now but that's alright because I'm here and these are my words and I just had the nicest epiphany about how happy I am to be here because I've already gotten so many days and I don't need to start conversations with how tired I am or how I can't stand being at school or how senioritis is real life because,

like I said:

I'm just happy to be here.

6:22 PM
6 Comments

petty words

I'd like to have a few words with you.
Nothing to worry about,
I assure you.
Just a thought, really.
Something that's been on my mind.
And it never hurts to ask, right?
That's what they told me at least.
(it was on the handout they gave me on "how to be your best self")
Just spit it out, you say?
You've got places to be?
Candid shots to commemorate the occasion?
Oh no, that's fine.
I'd be happy to take a photo for you.
Alright so while we're here,
I was just wondering.

Could I be your Saturday night?