My constant.
In valleys and cliffs,
with a cigarette between lips
and a hand wrapped around swirling spirits,
my ever after happy end.

By my side, holding hands,
in the most starkest of moments
when I make outlandish demands
the only one who can know
the things I whisper when in shadows.

My eternity, my right hand,
the ace up my sleeve,
the winning hand,
my confession box,
my witless friend,
the most cursed,
my marching band.

When confronted by truth
my resilient spine,
I am my own ******
valentine.