A very long sentence

There's something poetic about sitting at home in "outside" clothes at 1.30 am finishing an assignment and smelling faintly like you from when I was over earlier that evening for no good reason other than to look in your eyes, the golden-brown of boiling tea before adding milk, to look in your eyes before you see me looking and then look away with a hint of a smile and slip your hand around my waist like it belongs there and resting it there for the rest of our time before drawing me close and saying good night and never goodbye.