33rd. ♥

From him:

Days come and go with puddles of sweat on hand

Strains and grunts , nothing but perpetual suppers

And As I eat every spoonful, never could I be helpful

In the resistance in remembering your soothing hands

Which is already a mismatch to a sight of you




To even think that I shall see you again soon,

makes a man think how good life must be

and so soon it will be...


though these Nthsaries were never my thing, happy 13 still and may each be even happier than the last. I love you :)