You smell like the night.
Not one of school or work,
Red light rush home
Headlights burn dim
In the puddles of --
lamp light.
Nor stale air,
Flickering overhead.
That bulb dies
at the same time
as someone packs up their baggage,
creeping it downstairs
No. You smell like the night.
I know its you when
Warm tobacco wraps around
holds me firmly but gently
The faint smell of marijuana
tracing light lines along my collarbones.
No cheap mulled christmas drink
could make me as warm
as the sandalwood perfume
that lingers on your clothes
and then on mine.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
You smell like the night.
Not one of school or work,
Red light rush home
Headlights burn dim
In the puddles of --
lamp light.
Nor stale air,
Flickering overhead.
That bulb dies
at the same time
as someone packs up their baggage,
creeping it downstairs
No. You smell like the night.
I know its you when
Warm tobacco wraps around
holds me firmly but gently
The faint smell of marijuana
tracing light lines along my collarbones.
No cheap mulled christmas drink
could make me as warm
as the sandalwood perfume
that lingers on your clothes
and then on mine.