Anxiety.
Conserve.
Conservatory.
Shakespeare.
Man.
Monk.
****.
I ******.
I'm better.
Expulsion.
Breathe.
Friend.
Not friend.
Friend.
Best friend.
Awkward.
I still have that.
Dress.
Tights.
Queen.
Mill.
Birthday.
Song.
500.
Guitar.
Te­ars.
Nostalgia.
Nostalgic.
Dead.
You're dead.
You're dying.
I'm dying.
I'm dead.
I'm not dead.
24.
You're blonde.
I'm not blonde.
I'm old.
I'm still old.
I'm a child.
I'm going to cry.
Stop.
I don't cry.
No more crying.
I'm allowed to cry here.
That's why I cry here.
I'm allowed.
I can do what I want.
I know what I want.
I have no idea what I want.
But I think that's what I want.
I'm not doing what I want.
But this is enough.
It's not enough.
I'll make it enough.
Where am I?
24.
Twenty.
Four.

Stop thinking.

HEAR THE COMPLETED SONG HERE:
https://soundcloud.com/nataliejcopeland/you-said*

You said, “Why’d you fold my clothes?
I don’t want anyone
taking care of me.”
You turned back to your razor,
ignoring
the sick-stained sheets.

You said, “Let’s just watch tv.
I don’t know anyone
when I’m asleep.”
You turned back to the wall,
ignoring
the two empty feet.

But that wasn’t where
the worst
pain
was felt,
Cuz I didn’t think
that my warm
heart
could melt
All the icy hands
That her cold heart
had dealt.
But then you said,
“That’s all broken.”
And you said,
“That’s all dead.”

You said “I can’t love again.
I don’t want anyone
wrapped up in my fate.”
Well, we turned back to our peaches,
ignoring
how we knew I would wait.

They said, “Is that your pretty girlfriend?”
And you said, “She’s so pretty…”
And that was the end
Cuz we turned back into clowns,
ignoring
the message we sent.

If you wanna know
the worst
pain
I felt
It’s when I lost hope that
my warm
heart
could melt…
Cuz the final blow
that cracked my world
was dealt
When you said…
When you said..
When you said…
When you said…
…. Nothing.

You said, “I’ll still be your friend
When he comes sweepin’ you
offa your feet.”
You put out your cigarette,
ignoring
my tears on the street.

you see, when you first left,
it took such a long time to take out the shards
of glass, and fishing lines, and pieces of paper with
****** drawn hearts, and deflated balloons.
it took such a long time to find a needle and thread and sew all the
wounds.
it took days, months, years. and the stitches.
they were on my arms, legs, stomach, neck.
the scars did not heal until, until,
three years later.
you see, i put some scar cream. tried different
foundations.
placed different men’s hands and covered the scars with
bellowed ideas and bruises.


the scars have started bleeding, opened like
ripe tomatoes.
i do not have enough hands to cover them,
so i think i’ll sit here
until the bed soaks through.

I am as tasteless
as the boiled chicken we are about to eat

Her hands tremble
as she sips her beer
The glass taps her teeth

She exhales like an ocean
made of bone

skeleton secrets
and rolling clatter

It is not cold in here

I don't remember what I said

But I do remember something my grandmother
often said to me

"Whatever man has been here before
and whatever man will be here again
Do not let him speak for you now"

i can taste you,
on my tongue, in between the cracks
of my canines, saturated on my
peeling lips.
and i haven’t been able to keep food down.
you are in the pockets of cheeks,
and you taste like guilt, shame,
and so much greed. greed.
i have brushed my teeth over five times today,
used mouthwash until my eyes watered.
but you are thick,
and i’m swallowing, hoping it will dissolve.

it's a beautiful day outside
the sun is lilting over the trees
those weird fuzzy seeds
that get up your nose
whisping through the air
the manicured grass
glinting
i'd go out
and enjoy it all
if i weren't so
ugly inside
today