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Best Poems Written by Ella Gillies

Below are the all-time best Ella Gillies poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Who What When Where Why How

Who wounded you enough that picking targets to retaliate against is a game to you and their destruction is your level up? It’s like your only way to survive is to tear life out of others and exist off their desperation for your attention and help, even though you’re the one who made them this way in the first place.

What about me is not valid enough to you that you feel the need to shove your opinion down my throat as if I haven’t heard enough of it? It’s like a force feeding of acid that deteriorates my heart and flows out my eyes when you leave.

When did it ever become okay to walk through my chain-locked door, then break the hinges off when you leave so it’s now agape? It’s like you planned on leaving so you had your tools ready in advance, prepared to destroy me in the most efficient way possible: letting the draft in and my vulnerability out. 

Where did the empty look in your eyes come from? It’s like your mind and heart were squeezed until your spirit poured out with the strength of a dam and was collected into a disposable cartridge and was quickly burned through by the fire of abandonment.

Why did you turn your back and walk away even though I was screaming your name with such intensity that windows three blocks down shattered? You stabbed a knife through your own heart so you wouldn’t feel the same agony as me, and any screaming from me sounded like a whining child who has lost their candy.

How can a dream feel so real that when I’m at the bottom of a swimming pool I still inhale water when I breathe and wake up choking? It’s like my mind is so accustomed to pain that it confuses dreams with reality and drowning makes sense in the muddled state of unconsciousness.

Copyright © Ella Gillies | Year Posted 2019

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Memories of Her

He knows that when he wakes in a drunken stupor, her name will be the first word to pass through his cracked lips that will still sting from the amount of alcohol consumed. He knows that before he falls asleep with several other women on his arm, she will be the one thing that consumes him until unconsciousness finds him empty and drags him down to the abyss. He knows, every single moment, that, as the smoke leaves his mouth, she walks further away from him. He knows his choices will be the death of him, yet he can't stop. He needs the fix; he needs a way to forget her because she even plagues his dreams. There is no escape, no point in trying to run away from something much bigger than you. He knows, when he wakes up, his bed will be empty again and his phone will be voicemail-free -- just as it has been for five months. His calls will never be answered and his messages are automatically deleted. He knows this. He knows the numbness is what gets him through the days. It is the only thing that calms his soul and quiets his brain, just enough for him to roll another joint or pour another shot. He knows that when he wakes his mouth will taste of her, the sweet aftertaste of honey that's been mixed with so much bourbon you got drunk just by being near. His choices consume him, every detail vivid as the fight replays in is mind: there was so much screaming his voice blew out and neighbors down the street could hear it. He remembers all that, the breaking of china when lines were crossed and the threats pushed through lips raw from her own teeth. The last detail is the one that hurts the most, yet it is so painfully clear and focused that he can think of it from afar and immediately need a drink. The detail is her, grabbing a suitcase and storming out the door, hair wild with a scowling expression to match the darkness in her eyes. He remembers the regret, knowing that if she left this porch, she would never come back. He let her leave. That's the thought that destroys him, that mere whisper that says he lost the only thing in his forsaken, miserable life that had any meaning. That's the thought that causes him to wonder if any of this was even worth it in the first place.

Copyright © Ella Gillies | Year Posted 2019

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The Name of Love

He asked me, "What do you want to know?" To which I shrugged and simply replied, "You."
Then he touched me with a gentle breeze and I knew more than the Earth itself.
He drew me in with a crashing wave that allowed him to peer into the depths of a crevice that had drowned so many.
And to which an impossible phenomenon doused the world in color:
Light in the darkness; the name of love.

Copyright © Ella Gillies | Year Posted 2019

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Goodbye Love

My dear
You ask me with calling eyes and a confused smile
But I cannot answer you

My love
Your voice shakes with agony and slices through my heart
Yet I cannot stop

Your hand search for mine in the dark but you shall not find me
I am gone

Copyright © Ella Gillies | Year Posted 2019

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Timeline of Abuse

“Shh. Don’t cry please. “

But I knew he didn’t mean it. 

The asking. 

He didn’t care. 

He just didn’t want to get caught. 


“Don’t look at me like that, like I’m the bad guy.”

But how couldn’t I. 

... how could I?

I think I’m stuck. 


“Shut up and come here. It’ll be over soon.”

I wasn’t even speaking, but I’ll remain that way. 

Arguing is pointless, and makes the moment worse. 

So okay. I’m coming. 

Maybe today will be different. 

(It won’t.)


It wasn’t. 

So again the lesson was burned into my mind:

My body is not my own. 

My thoughts are not my own. 

My life is not my own. 

If I stay quiet, it’s easier. I used to fight. Not anymore. After all, it’s my fault. I should like this. He likes it. I should do it for him. Why can’t I- why don’t I-

I do. 

I don’t. 

I don’t know anymore. 


Help me. 

I don’t remember when I stopped existing but I can’t find myself anymore. 






Radio silence.

Copyright © Ella Gillies | Year Posted 2020