What is the night's remorse if not the regret of your lips gone from mine?
Is it the moon mocking the sun in its endless game of chase?
Where, for but a moment, they are lovers joined then just as quickly receded.
Is it that you are to be the water to end this endless thirst for love?
Or am I to be the drug that torments you until you wake sweaty and full of need?
Would I that my dreams ceased to be haunted by your sultry eyes and wicked lips.
Would I more that those same eyes and lips tantalize me while I wake.
Could it be the tenor of your voice that soothes me  when I ache?
Or is it that my softness drives your soul to return nightly to mine?
What is your remorse if not the regret of leaving me satiated, yet not?
I reply that is the sweet sadness of loving what you can never have.