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.