But, now you come to me, and you say: “Don Corleone, give me justice”. But you don’t ask with respect. You don’t offer friendship. You don’t even think to call me Godfather. Instead, you come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to do murder for money.
(Source: fassyy, via faymentality)
In just our underwear, so our skin can touch? Can I hold you while you wrap yourself around me? I’ll play with your hair and drag my fingertips across your skin. I’ll peck at your neck while you giggle and tell me to stop. We could whisper sweet things to each other over pillows that no one could hear. We’d just stare in each others eyes until a smile cracked the silence of our lips.
(Source: julianplowden, via curiouss)
(Source: pusheen)
(Source: tvshowsmaniac, via faymentality)
Sometimes I’m alone but never lonely
That’s what I’ve come to realize
I’ve learned to love the quiet moments
The Sunday mornings of life
Where I can reach deep down inside
Or out into the universe
I can laugh until I cry
Or I can cry away the hurt
(Source: uselessinfonympho, via alaluneetretour)
