For My Husband...I Love You, Baby...

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Arts & Culture » Poetry Sexy by Joan Noeldechen September 01, 2014

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2 comments One person arrived in the night to make love to me. He claimed me, unlike you, who couldn't handle me. Ah, he appeared sweet and mature, and he was Jewish. Does that surprise you? I don't know why I am being prepped for a man. I am living the life of Emily Dickinson who burned for her Master. I am having sex with strangers in dreams, men in black hats and all the while there is one watching. You can't read me. I am not one of my poems. Steal this. Steal a kiss. You can never read me. COMMENTS (2) Showing 1-2 of 2 Oldest ADD A COMMENT WARREN D. SCHELDE 01/16/2017 AT 3:04 AM 0DISLIKES 1LIKES I don't need to read a word when you speak to me so clear. Always my sweet and special flower. As ever I'll be here. REPORT DISLIKE LIKE JOAN MARGUERITE NOELDECHEN 09/14/2019 AT 10:08 AM 0DISLIKES 0LIKES I just wrote a dream on paper. I tried so hard to be published in Chronogram. This poem made it. I was fortunate. Joanie REPORT DISLIKE LIKE Add a comment LATEST IN ARTS & CULTURE

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