short story #2

i’m starting to think that if there was any other kind of reality you’d carve your way into it. 
i see nothing but your face now,on the glistening surface of my coffee,
in the mirror, you couldn’t even spare the clouds could you?!
you had to charm them too for i can see you in the sky when i first wake up in the morning,
but they cant seem to do you justice when they form your face. 
It’s your eyes, there’s no imitation possible for those eyes. They’re their own unique and marvelous specimen. 
and at night when i gaze at the stars and i connect them i can see your smile in the constellations but they sparkle while yours glow. 
and when people look into my eyes they see you rather than their own reflection and they smile because they know the occupant of my heart.

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Don’t know if that constant constriction of my heart is a permanent side effect to your existence.
All i know is that my heart has been in shambles since the moment you walked out of my system.
I lay everyday in bed dreaming of alternate realities just so i can manifest a life,
where you are always and forever mine.

well is it ?

Is it just me or does every writer get this feeling when something inspires them to write. it’s like a burn in your chest, a gentle burn. It’s like the feeling you get when you see someone you love, a clenching in your stomach and a rush of adrenaline in your system. 

“Someone once a…

“Someone once asked me,
‘why do you drink so much coffee?’
and I fought the urge to say
if I didn’t drink coffee, it would be whiskey
Because it takes 8 cups of coffee a day
to get my mind racing fast enough
to skip over thoughts of you
But one bottle of whiskey
to forget,
not only who you are,
but who I have been”

— anonymous

coffee and smoke

My friend once said ” i wonder why most English majors are smokers and drink coffee ? ” i thought about it a lot since then. when you read a lot you’ll know a lot and the more you know the sadder you get. haven’t they said before that ignorance is a blessing, well, they were right. We drink coffee to keep us awake, since all we wanna do is go to sleep and run away from the world. We smoke to cover up the pain that has become a constant in our being for so long. Coffee and smoke, they’re not a source of entertainment, they’re our means of escapism. 

addicted to you

It’s unfathomable why you let the things you love the most go. It reminds me of a smoker, so much in need of his daily dose of nicotine. however, the minute he gets a taste, he lets it all out in a puff of smoke to disappear into thin air. as if it meant nothing, as if it hadn’t touched his heart or circled his lungs. as if it didn’t leave a footprint while it flooded his chest, a foot print that is so easily erased if only he’d quit but he never does,does he?. why is it that we live in a state of limbo, where it is always safe and easy. Just like a cat and mouse chase where he shows you a part of his essence then sucks you out of his system, but you never leave completely, do you? you always leave a part within to remind him that he craves you again. to ensure that every single time he came back, back to you. It’s always you.