he smokes and she doesnt.

for when my words spill across my keyboard

We look up at the same sky and we see the same thing and suddenly, it's not so lonely anymore.

❝the cigarette does the smoking–you're just the sucker.❞ [short story #458]

"coffee and smokes and cold diet cokes: that's what pretty girls are made of."

❝and your words were shards of glittering glass, lodged deeply in my heart❞ a collection of poems and short stories. © 2014 by overcast

[ONGOING] Callie Silverstone – the sweet something, that wore pieces of material instead of headbands – had worked in the grungy odds and sods shop that sold vintage Marilyn Monroe posters, vinyl records, run-down guitars and a bit of everything else, for a total of seven months. Zayn Malik had entered the store on an October afternoon, the setting sun casting an eerie orange glow over the city. He wore headphones around his neck and a grey denim jacket slung around his shoulders. A flimsy cigarette dangled from his chapped lips and his dark eyes held a certain mystery. Callie and Zayn were opposites – no doubt about it – but you know what they say; “opposites attract.” cover by the beautiful AlexandraJoy © sttarbucks

[ an anthology of thoughts about love - cover by @soundthealarm ]

as i lie on my soft, beautiful bed i slowly feel like i am drowning in memories the memories i've so much attempted to completely forget have remained in the back of my mind they taunt me in my last, my final hour of life