Babe, before you true love seemed like a ruse.
A marketing scheme, naive and confused.
A dream and a game, illusory bonds.
A fairytale myth, so fragile and flawed.
Babe, before you there was no spark.
Hormones, not chemistry — gluons and quarks.
The con was hypnosis; for diamonds and cake.
Collective psychosis, notions vague and opaque.
Babe, before you love was family and friends.
Warm kindred souls on whom I could depend.
Never romance, it was comfort and strength.
What is this trance into which I descend?
Babe, before you I was happy to hide,
All the strangeness that I carry inside.
Yet now with this click, though it is a challenge,
Seems true love exists — by god is it magic.
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