"Constantly"

"Do you love

me..." she asks,

fully knowing

that Love ebbs,

flows,

and is not steadfast:

full in the morning,

trailing off into little dips by noon,

and is fascinated

by the most usual of things

at dusk;

builds unnoticed,

stays, wobbly,

and destroys itself with passion,

rebuilding

and fizzling

out,

at whim;

arhythmic and

maddeningly predictable;

the more you say it is,

the more it is not;

and giving up, you resign yourself,

but now, it is...

(or is it?)

And she, knowing all this,

half-smiling (self-deprecating),

leads into

the adjective:

"...constantly?"