Sweetheart
Just like every good romance novel, I dreamt of you last night. What happened, I'll never tell, for I only recall little glimpses of your face and the endless butterflies you bring me. What I do remember substantially is driving on a long road, falling asleep next to you, feeling at peace again, waking up three separate times to the thought of: "Remember this. I want to tell him when he wakes up." I may have failed at what I wanted to do, but I didn't fail at feeling that pleasant warmth you give me.