Centauri, You Were Always the Constant

Dear Centauri,

The world has changed shape around you,
but my love hasn’t.

It’s taken different forms—
a laugh I didn’t know I still remembered,
a sidewalk I avoid,
a bench I still sit on
because I swore I would.

But underneath all the disguise,
it’s still the same:
I see you,
I know you,
I choose you.

Not because you belong to me.
But because you don’t.
And loving you anyway
is the truest thing I’ve ever done.

So I’ll keep doing it.

Whether you return,
or remain a prayer I say to the stars.

You are still my constant.

Always,
Castor