Vacation in a black leather jacket

When I make love to you,
All I can think of is the scent of your skin
Unveiling mystery and uniqueness.
It smells like the fuel
Of a well oiled machine.
It smells of history
Of passion, respect, and charisma.
You smell of mountains and rivers.

Old leather jackets remind me of you;
Black, faded, torn and ripped to shreds.
Worn continuously regardless of condition
As hopeful reminders of the sight
Of your face once more.

Feelings inside me continue to grow
Difficult to comprehend, yet all knowing.
I run my fingers through long blond hair
Uncontrollable at night,
And it feels like a creek bubbling through the forest
Your body feels like a vacation;
Temporary paradise
I can't wait to come home to.

There is no home in the life that I share
Except for a few moments with you.
I can be alone, as myself, who I once was
Before my life was stolen out from under my feet.
Carpeting all the knowledge I once had
Is a song of passion and sincerity.
A soul inside me temporarily reborn.

Youth evaporates into the night
While sitting in the seat of life returning.
Realistic rain begins to flow once again
Out of the clouds, through the air,
Into the lives and soil of the world around me.

Wishing I could hold on, to the thoughts of you beside me.
Wrapping my arms around the back of speed and immortality.
The fragrance of gasoline.
Vibrations of horse power beneath me,
And a road that twists and turns
Continuously into a frozen starlit night.

Faith allows me to let go.
Relax in the wilderness around me,
Holding on to the world with muscles in my legs and thighs.
Life relies on my own strength
And your navigational abilities
I somewhat question on certain occasions.
And I close my eyes
Fall into a dream world of misinterpretation;
Of reality.

Regardless in all too many ways
I still adore you...
Miles and miles have grown between us
Leaving the scent of your skin only to be remembered
By the touch of my back
By someone else's hands;
Sometimes my own.

I still kiss the air and think of you
And look at a panoramic view of memories
Of a road less than traveled.
A road visited.
A road in history, in time, in refuge in the back of my mind.
And in the passion of my hands.
A road taken only with you.

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Free Verse
writing tigercatracing
"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."
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