I would make you funny.
I wanted to laugh, not cry.
I wanted to pretend for a moment
That nothing bad would happen
When I walked home.
I took your violent outbursts
And packaged them as funny
Anecdotes to tell my friends,
To make them laugh, to manage
To make myself laugh, no matter
How much you actually hurt me the
I stood in a circle surrounded by them
And I would turn you into a comedy.
And when they met you, you used all of
Your charms and they were enchanted,
You flirted without applause, manipulated,
Projected a confidence that was never real,
And they would never believe that you did
What you actually did on a daily basis,
And I realised that I had shot myself in the knee
By trying to tell a story in such a way that I could
Survive the truth within it.
I made you funny. Even though I would be the one
Crying, feeling beaten and exhausted, helpless, alone,
With you, the night before I would meet my friends the next day.
And pretend that you make me laugh, that you don’t hurt me at all.
All they could remember and believe was the smile on your face.
What you did to me became a joke, a truth that no one took seriously,
I didn’t, I thought I had to laugh my way out, but I cried my way in.