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Pixie Ellis Feb 16
And oh do you have some nerve,
Stroking my hair on the coach ride home
Then leaving me before our stop.

You smile and laugh,
Like every word we share is an inside joke
And then leave before I have time to open my eyes.

But now they've never been wider,
I may have had them closed the whole ride back,
When I rest my head on your chest,
But your ribs hold no weight.

My head is filled with helium,
I'll float myself away from you so fast and
I should have known when I noticed your seatbelt was undone.

That I was never going to be a concern to you,
That you feel no guilt for the casualties.
I feel like I only ever write about the guy I have a crush on but life goes on
Pixie Ellis Oct 2018
****, ****, ****,
I hope we find each other some day.
To be sick of distancing myself to be pulled right back,
because pulling hurts but the distance hurts stronger.
We are too close to not be together.
Separate beings that are too much alike and god how I loathe to miss you.
How I wish that next time I see your face, it does not play in my head like a rerun without ads.
I am sick to death of writing love poems about you.
Can’t we just be in inside them?

— p.d.e
Pixie Ellis Aug 2018
We spend one day together, in the park and now the sun reminds me of you.

It was 29 degrees and the sun still couldn’t match your brightness.
29 degrees and you were still the brightest star in my sky.  
I think back to my diary, when I told her we would forge a picnic from the empty living room and yet here we are.

The cream carpet, now green grass and my heart melts in your hands.
Sizzling air beats down on our pale skin as my heart beats a mile a minute.
Sometimes I like to play pretend.

Cast myself as the role of your love interest.
So during my game I was shocked.

When we step foot in your local corner store, when the cashier muttered a “you too, together”
I thought I’d alternated reality.

Or at least I did for that second and a half.
Before you fumbled over your words and tried to find the ones that would break my heart the least.
You settled on she’s out of my league, you joked about it once we’ve left.
Then I pretended again.

I cast myself as your laid back friend,
As the girl who has better things to think about then a cashier wrong assumptions.
Reality didn’t shift this time.

— p.d.e
another ****** love poem about a dumb boy
Pixie Ellis Apr 2018
Dear Cute Boy At The Party,

It was nice meeting you. Again.

I bet you didn’t know you were the first person I ever flirted with. I bet you didn’t know I prepped for this date for a week. I bet you didn’t know how much my heart soared when you asked me out.

Thank you for telling me that I have a cute laugh. Thank you for telling me how much you wanted to see me again before I even left. Thank you for walking me back to the station.

It was nice talking to you.

I know when you complained about the chair, it was just an excuse to sit next to me. I know you want L to like you back. I know you deserve someone who treats you better.

It was nice that you finally messaged me, a week after the party.

But I bet you didn’t know how quickly I accepted the fact I’d never see you again. That I’ve already wrote you two poems and that I’m sat listening to the songs you recommended to me. Thank you for making me realise that the right guy will come along, but not right away. I thought I’d just be that girl at the party who’s name you can’t remember, or face you can’t place, but I was wrong.  

It was nice meeting you.

I‘m excited to see you again next week.

— p.d.e
I went out on a date with cute boy from the party, last night.
Pixie Ellis Apr 2018
How are you?
How’s London?
How’s having the last word?
How’s looking in the mirror and sleeping at night?

I’m great thanks for not asking.

You were wrong about him,
He’s a good friend of mine and we talk everyday.
Talking is this thing you do with other people and like I’ll say something and then you respond and we just go back and forth and have this thing called a conversation.

Oxford dictionary defines communication as the successful conveying or sharing of ideas and feelings.

I feel like you we could explore this idea of never speaking ever again,
But then again I feel like you’ve already made that decision without me.

When you get back,
I’d like the Wonder Woman Blu-ray I lent to you that you never bothered to watch.
I’d also like every impulse that caused me to reach out the first time to not let me do it again.

Anyways, I’m sure you’re having a great time and I can’t wait to not hear about it.

— p.d.e
Pixie Ellis Apr 2018
During the seven years I’ve known you,
We spent five wandering the same halls not pondering each other’s existence.

Months of speaking and then,
I see you again.
But the light shines on you so much softer.  It is bright and the rest of the room seems dim.

Seven years of never speaking,
and you tell me you want to see what my insides look like.
Months of speaking and I hand you the scalpel myself and consent to a game of operation.

Four years of never seeing you,
I see you again and question how I did not miss you before.

When you open up my chest,
You string up fairy lights along my rib cage and sew me back up.

I wonder why you never asked about the butterflies in my stomach, but maybe you chose not to ponder their existence.

— p.d.e
Another love poem about dumb boys
Pixie Ellis Apr 2018
It was nice meeting you.

I bet you didn’t know you’re the first guy I ever tried to hit on. I bet you didn’t know I prepped for this conversation for a week. I bet you didn’t know how deep my heart sunk when I saw you go upstairs with another girl.

Thank you for being the first guy who’s ever flirted with me. Thank you for the pink gin. Thank you for the hand you placed on my back when you hugged me goodbye.

It was nice talking to you.

I know you falling on me was a move, even though you said it wasn’t. I know sitting and listening to the story of how I met J was a move. I know you like L. I know deep down she probably likes you too, I did.

It was nice that you didn’t message me after the party.

But I bet you didn’t know that I would of loved you with my whole heart. That I would of wrote you love letters and made you mixtapes of songs that reminded me of you. Thank you for making me realise that the right guy will come along, but that guy isn’t you. I know I’ll always be that girl at the party who’s name you can’t remember, or face you can’t place but I don’t lie.

It was nice meeting you.

I hope one day we’ll meet again.

— p.d.e
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