letters to you

❝ i miss the way your name tastes like forbidden toxins on my lips. ❞ copyright - all rights reserved

three am.

you haven't really met me until it's three am and we're all alone.

nights

it was in the darkest hours of the day that i felt most comfortable in. a collection of words: [ © victoria g. two thousand and fourteen ] |cover created by -therapy|

12 am { ON HOLD }

He's the kind of sad who drinks, parties and smokes it all away. She's the kind of sad who reads, hides and uses sarcasm as protection. And when they meet out of chance, on a train ride home from the city, it's only just the beginning of the relationship no one ever thought could work - or rekindle. But hey, destiny...