I woke up this morning, torn yet apprehensive.
I smiled, stood up, "Why is he so defensive?"
I asked myself that, and I studied his expression.
Is this gut feeling of mine saying I should teach him a lesson?
I was always a student in a physical form, but the teacher in me was there but scared to properly inform.
When I sense something so bad I know it's so bad I also can taste it.
I'm going to solve this equation and use this knowledge, and for once not waste it.
He tells me a different story, he does it every single day.
As if I'm dumb, he thinks I'll have nothing courageous to say.
Deep down he has no clue, my mind is melting, like when you first put butter on a skillet.
I'm wondering if he tells me the truth will it fix my heart and start to heal it?
This novel I'm writing every morning is a jumbled mess, it's non fiction.
I'm wondering what in this world will actually make me realize this love was only redemption.
I'm a teacher of rejection and lies of deep regret.
I hide my heart in layers hoping no one will ever see it yet.
He still doesn't know that I'm now teaching this class.
And if he scores high then he'll be sure to always pass.
But soon he will learn, in a classroom like this u won't advance if you're cheating.
Emotions will flow, you'll be sore, like you just got the most painful beating.
The next day I woke up, and yet again it was that gut feeling.
I now realized I was right, and the answers were so chilling.
He wasn't that guy that I met in high school.
He wasn't even the man I loved, he's just a dishonest fool, that always pushed and shoved.
So, I grade the papers and this time I make no accidental little wrong mistakes
I wrote on his test "I'm not so dumb I know now what it really takes."
I was scared to face the facts that he was wrong all along.
Grading the final tests is what made me finally feel so strong.
I grab my red pen, and scribble an F on his messy final draft.
I walked up to him, and didn't cry I just quietly laughed.
"Who's the dumb one now?" I could've caught him in the act.
"It's over" I mumbled, "and that's not fiction it's a fact."