That slice of night,
When I keep you later, much later,
Enforcing the paradox of my concern for you;

When your lips find my cheek, my forehead,
My other cheek,
Averting the origin of muttered "I miss you"s;

When our eyes are full of shine,
Not because of the crass light of the moon,
But because we've hit the peak of silent interest;

That slice of night
When loving one another is permissible,
When all eternal sin is ephemerally sacred.