Here, a speaker is caught up in missing a woman, and the clearest way they can express it is through smell. The poem opens and closes with the same lines, "Her scent... How I wish, I breathe her!", so the whole thing feels like a loop, as if the speaker can't stop circling back to the thought of her.
In between, the speaker pieces her together through the senses. Her hair smells of peaches and orchids, her skin feels like pearl and satin, and her hug carries her perfume "like a glowstick," an odd, bright image that suggests her fragrance lingers and glows around the speaker even after she's gone. The wording "I breathe her" is striking because it treats her almost as air, something needed to live. The mood is tender, dreamy and a little aching. It reads less like a story and more like a single moment of wanting, with the speaker lost in memory and desire.