Of What I Thought Love Was

This allure of illusion,
coming to this conclusion,
of what I thought love was.

In this secret paramour,
I thought of myself no less of a whore,
of what I thought love was.

I thought it was in the crude language,
never realizing the anguish,
of what I thought love was.

Hidden beneath moans and sighs,
pushed away thoughts of the lies,
of what I thought love was.

And I had the odd fixation
of the physical manifestation,
of what I thought love was.

But now in your arms,
I've fallen for that charm,
of what I think love is.