i'm a small man who can't give big things.
forever sounds like a grand promise to make that
i'm unwilling to make and no one can fulfill.
to be the best sounds like something i'm not and i'll never be;
to make you the happiest sounds like a forced future,
like trying to tie down an unpredictable dark horse
and telling it to sit down like a dog.
and true love sounds like a far too abstract,
far too bizarre concept to grasp,
far too incomprehensible and universal—
too big compared to the little me.

but you can hold onto these words:
no matter how many other hellos and goodbyes given to me,
i can promise i'll kiss your knuckles before you sleep every night.
i can promise i'll hurt you;
but i can also promise i'll chant apologies like a prayer,
tear-stained cheeks or not
and scarred hearts or not.
i can promise the odd times while the sun is up
that i tell you my weirdest ideas.
i can promise the odd times while the moon is up
that i plead for touches, hugs, kisses;
crave you close so please hold me tight.
i can promise the odd times all day that i tell you:
i treasure and adore you.
because i really do;
every time of the day
and anytime of the day,
i do.

and everything about you always reminds me
that you're one of the greatest things to ever happen
to the earth, to the living and to me.
they say promises are meant to be broken and
words are just meaningless sounds and symbols;
but nothing is truer when i say:
i really want us to celebrate your birthday together this year.