Maybe I love her more.
Then again, maybe she loves me more.
To her, love is a test.
I know I’ve missed
my share of answers.
I looked at the clock,
knowing I need to take my time
but can’t slow down.
In a time I couldn’t think,
she hid my calculator,
telling me to use my fingers.
I knew the answers.
I used them
every day.
Maybe I love her more
because I studied.
Then again, maybe she loves me more
because it was a pop quiz.
But that’s okay
because it was open book.
Open Book Test
Published inPoetry
Be First to Comment