Love. Sweet love. Sweet sweet sweet love. Soaked. No, drowning. Filling me up. Running over. Healing love. Glorious, powerful love. Love that erases all the grime. Love that renews. Resurrects. Love that needs no words. Love that would never grow old, only grow.
So let this be known then. I have known love. Up. Close. Personal. The best kind. And I suspect this is one magic that's meant to last.
Go away you miserymongers, you scavengers of sorrow. Shoo. Scram. There's nothing here for you right now.
Soppy you say? So what, eh?