Notebook

I am the back

pages of a notebook

smeared with meaningless 

doodles and scribbles

of things you really 

don't give a shit about. 

Lessons

My father taught me

to only say I love you

if you are yelling it

through tears

boiling against your skin.

No one must know 

how blistered I am.

It is like matches scraped

all over my bones. 

River

Watch for the current

of my rage while 

you burn this bridge;

make sure

you are a damn

good swimmer.