I picked your dirty T-shirt up
off of the floor today.
Dirty isn’t the right word,
because as my fingers lifted it,
the smell of your cologne
wafted up to my nose.
That scent,
the scent of you,
intoxicates me.
In my altered state,
I wondered once again
how you manage to stay smelling
so fresh.
There has never been a time
in the past six years
when I’ve even caught a hint of
unseemly body odor.
I brought your shirt
up to my nose,
closed my eyes,
and inhaled deeply.
It reminded me
how I love to breath you in
as we make love;
your skin,
your hair,
your breath.
I awaken from my reverie
and grin.
All that just from doing
your laundry.
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 