I received notification on Wednesday that I'm going to be published for the first time.  I'm nervous.  Two of the poems that were accepted are about my relationship with my mother and / or stepfather, and the other is about the aforementioned former lover. 

Ah, the perils of being a confessional poet.

Although I think I agree with Jan Beatty.  I don't like the term "confessional poet," since it's almost always applied to women.  Usually to make their poetry seem smaller and more insignificant than poetry written by men.  As if women can't write about real issues.

I definitely write about real issues.

Tell Me Why - Taylor Swift

I took a chance, I took a shot
And you might think I'm bulletproof but I'm not
You took a swing, I took it hard
And down here from the ground, I see who you are

I'm sick and tired of your attitude
I'm feeling like I don't know you
You tell me that you love me then you cut me down

And I need you like a heartbeat
But you know you got a mean streak
Makes me run for cover when you're around

And here's to you and your temper
Yes, I remember what you said last night
And I know that you see what you're doing to me
Tell me, why?

You could write a book on how
To ruin someone's perfect day
Well, I get so confused and frustrated
Forget what I'm trying to say, oh

I'm sick and tired of your reasons
I got no one to believe in
You tell me that you want me, then push me around

And I need you like a heartbeat
But you know you got a mean streak
Makes me run for cover when you're around

Here's to you and your temper
Yes, I remember what you said last night
And I know that you see what you're doing to me
Tell me, why?

Why do you have to make me feel small
So you can feel whole inside?
Why do you have to put down my dreams
So you're the only thing on my mind?

I'm sick and tired of your attitude
I'm feeling like I don't know you
You tell me that you want me then cut me down

I'm sick and tired of your reasons
I've got no one to believe in
You ask me for my love then you push me around

Here's to you and your temper
Yes, I remember what you said last night
And I know that you see what you're doing to me
Tell me, why? Why? Tell me, why?

I take a step back, let you go
I told you I'm not bulletproof
Now you know

Linkin Park - Runaway

Graffiti decorations
Under a sky of dust
A constant wave of tension
On top of broken trust
The lessons that you taught me
I learn were never true
Now I find myself in question
(They point the finger at me again)
Guilty by association
(You point the finger at me again)

I wanna run away
Never say goodbye
I wanna know the truth
Instead of wondering why
I wanna know the answers
No more lies
I wanna shut the door
And open up my mind

Paper bags and angry voices
Under a sky of dust
Another wave of tension
Has more than filled me up
All my talk of taking action
These words were never true
Now I find myself in question
(They point the finger at me again)
Guilty by association
(You point the finger at me again)

I wanna run away
Never say goodbye
I wanna know the truth
Instead of wondering why
I wanna know the answers
No more lies
I wanna shut the door
And open up my mind

I'm gonna run away and never say goodbye
(gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away)
I'm gonna run away and never wonder why
(gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away)
I'm gonna run away and open up my mind
(gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away gonna run away)

I wanna run away
Never say goodbye
I wanna know the truth
Instead of wondering why
I wanna know the answers
No more lies
I wanna shut the door
And open up my mind

I wanna run away
and open up my mind
I wanna run away
and open up my mind
I wanna run away
and open up my mind
I wanna run away
and open up my mind

Spring Flood by Colin Morton

Spring flood pushes mud up the riverbank
and over, where last week I watched you
jogging, your bare limbs
white in the cold
now brown water flows,
no longer the familiar calm friend,

the river leaps canyons of itself, threatens
the footbridge, tears out
new promontories in the sandy shore,
tears them away,
trees totter on the edge like
divers having second thoughts,
tender leaves trailing
green hair in the water.

I am thinking of you, can't help it,
it's that poem I started last week,
the one that went, Your river
runs through me to an unfamiliar sea,
it won't be written now, can't be,
was going nowhere anyway,
its fragile lines trail
green grasses in your flood,
which in time will recede,
return to its familiar bed,

leaving me
with altered edges, old
roots exposed,
new growth stunted or delayed,
and forever leaning like these trees

toward you.