Headintheclouds Stories

for the love that fell apart // poetry

"sweetheart your head is too high up in the clouds." "well maybe you should stop being a big fish in a small pond."

Troy is a quiet boy who doesn't like to be disturbed when deep in thought. He is often called "Cloud Boy" because of how often he gets lost with his head in the clouds. He claims help isn't necessary but his best friend, Mikayla says otherwise.

Niemand wird sich dies wahrscheinlich durchlesen, aber es ist kein wirkliches Klischee. Es ist nicht nur eine Geschichte, sie ist näher an der Realität dran als am Anfang geplant. Jesus ist grundlos für unsere Sünden gestorben, denn wir sehnen uns immer mehr nach dem Teufel. Ein Abend. Mehrere Fehler. Alkohol hat doch den Effekt, den die Leute in Geschichten präsentieren. Fremd-Schämen. Nervosität. Ich weiß nicht wie ich diesen Abend beschreiben soll, da ich wortwörtlich dabei bin. Schaut einfach selbst nach.

Just some random poems I've written. Should I write more? Give me your feedback in the comments.

No matter how hard Arizona tries she can’t seem to keep herself from falling for her twin sister’s boyfriend, Aaron Trenton, and it also doesn’t help that some unknown force keeps throwing them in these sticky odd situations that leaves them burning for more. Will this forbidden love blossom or fail.

A collection of thoughts, feelings and words - collected by a lost soul - Maybe you'll find yourself in my poetry, anyways - Welcome to my mind.

That dream shook me. It reminded me of what I had to do. Old wounds that needed to be reopened. This is dedicated to my best friend.

Somewhere in Isabela Series #1

an escape to the clouds

This is a collection of random thoughts and poems that keep my head in the clouds Unfinished and updated whenever I feel like it

𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 just a collection of my terrible poems because yes I'm going to torture you like that :))) also there's a lot of death and ghost imagery so just sort of bear with me ok

how artwork is cursed // poetry

Do you remember the times where you space out? the moments where you begin to daydream out of nowhere? do you ever just get stuck in a dream you can't seem to wake up from? or at least you hope that it's a dream. Is everything that you see really an illusion? sometimes you seem to drift so far away from reality you're unable to separate reality from illusion, what you hope is fake could always be real and you wouldn't know it until it was too late. I hope you remember that.

A story about a girl named Helena