He knows the secrets of my heart, the paths of my dreams, and taste of my tears. He takes me over hills, heeds my call, and trusts me with his blind side. He is spirited but gentle, a man but humble, a dwarf among giants with little care. He is my meek and humble man, ready to carry me forth before I even ask.
There is nothing more comforting to me than the quick, slobbering kiss he insists on giving me upon greetings and departures.
He is my knight, the protector of my sleep, and the guardian of my dreams. He is selfless in his love, constant in his affection, and ever present by my side. He knows without me telling him to lay against my back when its time for bed, the warmth from him enough to ease the ache in my back from the daily grind of having a crooked spine, and will go unbidden to lay at the foot of my bed, eyes locked on my door when he hears something from beyond. He is my strong man, ready to take care of me before I even know it.
The two of them are the love of my life. They are the fellas I come home to, and the men who take care of me.
Love is beautiful.