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Click hereMy husband thinks I like him,
but he’s wrong.
For I do not feel anything
when our knees touch
as he reaches out
to show me something,
but I smile.
My heart does not beat quick
when he exclaims his latest ventures
and blurts out ideas
spilling through his head,
but I encourage.
I do not long to touch him
when we whisper deviously
about who we’d cut
and who we’d keep,
but I enjoy it.
My husband sees sparks
in my eyes when he talks
and how I always pay attention; Yes,
I always look up.
But my husband is dead wrong.
I don’t like him.
I love him.
One of those excellent endings that make me do a 180 and go back and reread what I thought I'd just read.
I mentioned this poem in the New Poem Review thread in the Poetry Forum. (The 50% temp rating is given so that it will not affect other ratings.)
wildsweetone