I come home each night,
And inhale and suffocate into the fragrance that is you.
Breathing in the residual, yet powerful and attracting aroma,
Upon the correspondence you sent,
An almost invisible heart,
Scribed in your perfume,
Distorting the paper and rushing to my head,
'She is like this', I say,
An association is established,
And expectations reign,
Catching a wanted and needed breath,
A sorta kiss from far-away,
It exudes a deep rich pungency,
That is alive and not manufactured.
It alivens me with hope,
That awaits your presence,
So I can, at last, breathe you in completely.