Ah my deare angrie Lord,
Since thou dost love, yet strike;
Cast down, yet help afford;
Sure I will do the like.
I will complain, yet praise;
I will bewail, approve:
And all my sowre-sweet dayes
I will lament, and love.
24 weeks today, and I've now (by every count) been without my Max as long as I had him with me. That is overwhelmingly sad to me.
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