A/N:I just want to preface this poem by saying that I haven't the foggiest idea where I came up with this. It's slightly erotic and it's freeverse...two things I never imagined coming out of my brain...mainly because a)I didn't think I had a sensual bone in my body and b)freeverse is evil...I hate it, it makes no metric sense, there's no order and half the time you can't tell it's poetry anyways. And it smacks of teenage angst, at least to me it does.

Nevertheless, I actually think that THIS freeverse is somewhat ok...and maybe I'm either a)self absorbed, blinded by my self heralded genius and therefore cannot tell how absolutely horrid it actually is or b)possessed by the soul of another poet who still cannot write "real poetry".

In either case, no good can come of this.

End of rant.

Eros

I know he wants me when I kiss him, because sometimes

his kiss is so deep and desperate that it

takes my breath away.

And sometimes

his kiss is so gentle,

as though he fears he will break me or lose me...and I could almost

cry from the tenderness.

I know he wants me because he has explored every inch of me

and knows my body

better than even I do,

the slopes and planes of my shoulders,

the dip of my spine,

the rise of my breasts,

the apex of my legs,

warm and wet and only his.

I know that he loves me because

I have seen his soul,

naked

and trembling.

I know he loves me because he has told me...not only with his lips,

but with his eyes,

with his hands.

I know he needs me when he shudders within me,

a deeper than physical need because

his needs always come second

for him,

my pleasure is paramount.