This poem speaks of intimacy shared for the very first time, and of awkward moments, indeed. Nonetheless, there is an underlying passion that strips their very souls down to their core - to enable them to come together openly, unashamedly.
And passionately.
This poem originally was published in Love Poems - Erotic Poems
The Gift
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I don't have much to give you in the way of material things. But then, I have never been a material person . . . so it wouldn't matter much anyway. I do have something to give you, though . . . and I hope you accept this gift with joy. I have chosen not to wrap it . . . I want it to be presented to you as pristine as can be. And anyway, decorations or wrappings would certainly ruin the effect. And so it is . . . that I stand before you . . . unclothed, but surprisingly, unashamed of my nakedness. You have already captured a piece of my heart, and you have captivated my soul. The only thing left for me to present to you is my very being . . . and I do that willingly, happily, and most of all . . . lovingly. Standing before you . . . watching your every movement . . . seeing the desire in your eyes for the very first time. I don't believe in all of my life, I have ever witnessed a moment as beautiful as this. Neither one of us can speak . . . and we are finding, even breathing, is difficult. Your heartbeat is pounding out a rhythm that almost assaults my ears. I can hear it from where I stand across from you . . . and every beat speaks of your love for me. I am giving you this gift tonight, because I desperately want you to look inside. I want you to open this package that I offer you, slowly . . . lovingly . . . sensuously . . . and search for what lies within. You don't have to look far, you know . . . everything I feel for you is just below the surface. So it shouldn't take long for you to discover the beauty awaiting you there. Go ahead . . . open this gift as a child would on a snowy Christmas morning . . . in a hurried fashion . . . rather like a frenzy, if you will. But once that initial gift is opened . . . and the passion subsides . . . Please promise me that this gift I give you . . . this gift of myself . . . is only just the beginning. |
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© 1999 Susan Miller Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.