Slow Dance

Wrapped securely in another's arms.
Cheek to shoulder in a sweaty embrace.
Absorbed in the melancholy tunes of yesterday,
applying words to circumstance,
swaying slightly in the ultimate expression of pre-pubescent devotion.

It's a feeling I've long forgotten
and have searched for ever since.

For three minutes the world revolves around nothing
but two heartbeats and skin to skin contact.
The dimmed lights feign secrecy and intimacy
between the damp July air and the rich colors of dusk outside.
The guitar whining in the metal rafters,
the bass reverberating against the wood and screened windows
leave their indelible mark in memory.
Somber faces with shut eyes,
breathing in deeply the scents
to be imbedded in memory
as the smell of simplicity and happiness.
Hands placed on the small of the back sending thrills across the skin
and an inescapably dangerous feeling firing across shut eyes.

Away you can drift
pretending to be anywhere but there,
just the two of you.

My chest feels small at the strength of those feelings
the happiness coursing through my veins
at Autobahn speeds
and the desperate wish for the moment to go on and on

The guitar strums quietly to an end
along with the memory,
leaving solitude palpably on the tongue.