our first night together,
you wore black lace
as if the color of your underwear
could coerce me into bed with you.
(it did)

the second night, 
I think you wore pink
or blue,
I honestly can’t remember
(it didn’t last long)

by the third night 
it was plain white,
tinted blue by the glare
of the television
(it didn’t matter anymore)

and by the fourth, 
you flopped on the couch
wearing a smile and banana boxers
not caring what I thought.
(I was already in love) 

(Source: stuartsometimes, via cooldoge)

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They love weaving magic carpets of words that will lift your poor soul far beyond the fray and cacophony of heartache and strife and will carry you to a realm of fantasies and dreams. Still, remember that words are words and fantasies are fantasies and that essays are just essays.
written by Anonymous

(via thatwasnt-verychanel)

making adult decisions about the future mORE LIKE

(Source: lupinlupout, via cooldoge)