I'll pout my lips, give shy smiles, subtly touch my face, look a little longer than I should. You want something to look at? I'll give you something to look at.You want to know me? Yeah well, mystery is a bitch. It pulls you in, and makes you want more. But guess what? You don't get more. When your mind starts to wander, you have to stop, and focus. Focus on your wife, the one sitting right the fuck next to you. And what is she doing? The same exact thing you were. Eye fucking some person across the room, because your pathetic lives aren't enough anymore. I know this, you know this, we all fucking know this. You feed off of the young, and we feed off of you too.
To my lady soulmate, Today you are 27 years young. And if you are 28, let’s not talk about it. Let’s stop keeping count okay? You are more vibrant, sweet and funny than you were yesterday. My beautiful sister, friend and soulmate. You are an essential piece of my heart. We have grown up together in ways most people don’t get to. In the 7th grade you had the world by the balls. And if you didn’t, you sure had everyone fooled. You were fearless and gorgeous and hysterical. An absolute force. A magnet. You were/are my hero. I have wrinkles engraved on my face purely from the gut wrenching laughter you’ve gotten out of me. The amount of sore abs I’ve had from you making me laugh heavily outweigh the amount of sore abs I’ve had from working out. You bring me to tears. You are the most hysterical human I know. I never want to go a month or year without talking with you. I find myself wishing you were my neighbor. Not so I could annoy you every single day but so I could squee...
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