|—||Unknown (via felicefawn)|
let’s spend our week nights eating cereal on the floor
when there is a perfectly fine table behind us.
we can go to the movies and sit in the back row
just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time.
we’ll paint the rooms of our house
and get more paint on us than the walls.
we can hold hands and go to parties we end up
ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub.
and slow dance with me in our bedroom
with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand.
let me love you forever.
|—||unknown (via fuckinq)|
Do you ever wonder about how an author would describe you in a novel? Not only your appearance but the way you talk and laugh and hold yourself and all the expressions on your face?
I got John Travolta to kiss Olivia Newton John at the Grease party back in 1978. Much better then having them just mug for my camera. Travolta lived in my building, but I never saw him.