Those moments that I think of you,
resting in my arms, stroking my hair, talking over our plans, kissing me tenderly.
Those moments are a constant.
As constant as my undying love for you.
As constant as the North Star.
As constant as the nights that I miss you, when you’re too far for me to reach.
As constant as the truly immense respect I have for all that you are.
And as constant as the pride I feel when you take my hand and whisper your love to me.
Those moments live inside me.
Constantly. Constantly. Constantly.