❤️‍🔥 32 Looks Good on You

32 looks good on you.
Your steady hands, your heart of gold,
honey, you’re not getting old.
You’re becoming.

Life is only beginning.
Can’t you feel it?
The veil keeps thinning,
and still, the end is nowhere in sight.
You arrived here exactly on time,
like the moon arriving to faithful tides.

A man to be proud of,
soft yet unbreakable,
gentle in a world that mistakes cruelty for strength.
I swear I dreamed you up
before this life ever began.

Maybe somewhere, long before earth,
our souls recognized each other
by candlelight.
Maybe I have loved you
through ten thousand names already.

Your quiet steadiness,
your constant metamorphosis,
grounds me when my spirit wanders too far.
And still, somehow,
I fall more in love with you every time.

I love you,
and I love us,
the strange little universe we’ve built
out of survival, laughter, devotion, and hope.

Watching you become a father
healed places in me
I thought would stay haunted forever.
The little girl inside me
feels safe enough to come outside now.
Because of you,
I remember how to be soft.
How to play.
How to believe in goodness again.

You are so special
without even having a clue.

I pledged my soul to you.
Not just in this life,
in every life after.

And if I’m the first to go,
I’ll pull a Wuthering Heights
and come home to haunt you,
just as you wanted me to.
You’ll feel me in flickering lights,
in thunder shaking the windows,
in the cold side of the bed turning warm.

32 looks good on you, babe.
Here’s to another trip around the sun,
another chapter written
inside the home we created together,
a sanctuary stitched together
by tired hands and stubborn love.

You are proof that good men exist
despite the sensual politics of this world.
A rare soul.
A sacred thing.

And I’m so thankful
you chose me.

Forgive me for the ignorant decisions,
for the storms I carry.
I’m still growing into the vision
I’ve had since I was a little girl.
I’m the Miss Honey in your world,
still learning how to believe
I deserve gentleness too.

I love your truth.
Your honesty is sexy.
Your humor feels holy to me.

And you light up every room
like the moon,
quiet, observant, watchful, psychic somehow,
always there even when hidden.

I have never loved anyone
the way I love you.
Not with my body alone,
but with whatever ancient thing in me
keeps reaching for you in the dark.

I hope you feel that
even during hurricane season.
Hurricane Violet has me weeping
from joy to grief and back again,
like the ocean answering the pull of something celestial.

You have all of me.
Every version.
Every lifetime.

So happy 32nd birthday, my love.
I can’t wait to witness
who you become
between now and next year.