"Love does not exist," crowed the non-conformist,
The alpha in his one-wolf pack
"But it does exist," insisted the ditsy dreamer, "as something you lack,"
The dreamer, flirting with the frustrations of the logical,
Traced a perfect heart with her finger on the alpha's clavicle
"Serotonin exists, bodily chemicals exist," forced the scientific thinker,
"Chemicals that can only make one fond of another for so long,"
The creationist looks down at the ground, compiling her next lyric
To the song of her love and passion for the clammy realist
She danced in circles around him like a carousel,
Exposing the freedom in herself as he stood motionlessly still
"If this that you say is so," she cooed,
"The explain seventy-year marriages, light-hearted rainstorms, and do explain what I feel for you"