Marry me.

Marry me. Let’s spend our nights eating cereal on the floor when there is a perfectly fine table behind us.
Marry me. We can go to the movie theatre and sit in the very back row just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time.
Marry me. We’ll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than on the walls.
Marry me. We can hold hands and go to parties that we end up ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub together.
Marry me. Slow dance with me in our bedroom with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand.

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