Coming Home to You

This is the one I got stuck on, about a month ago; don't ask me why. I have two or three poems backed up behind this one so I'm going to try to get it out, but it needs major work / revision / reconsideration / etc / etc.

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Coming home to you

Your kiss was lush
Like the wine
And I tasted it long after I went out-
Dancing, drinking, smoking little black cigars
In the cold with hipsters and rastas,
Singing with pop songs, bouncing to rap beats,
Closing out the club, numb with vodka-
So I could collapse into an empty bed.

Honestly the night was a
Waking dream; and I was dreaming about
What I was going to do
I was dreaming about
Coming home to you.

There's a taste in your breath, dear,
Some intoxicating smell that lives
In your throat, and I don't ever want
To tire of it. I try to
Sample it slowly, but I get
Greedy for it - don't want to
Get addicted, so I try to
Separate myself from it
But then I find myself
Dreaming about it
And dreaming about
The way we fit together
And how it will feel
Tomorrow night,
Coming home to you.