When the abuse doesn’t look like it
then it can’t be recognised
and it parades around
in broad daylight,
in pyjamas with spots instead of stripes,
but no-one is alarmed.
When the abuse doesn’t look like it
the victim goes under
piece by piece
but it is quiet, and she feels so much empathy
and she doesn’t recognise
that she’s taken over.

When those spots look like illness
the abuse is asking for pity
and all of her effort and soul,
with nothing in return
because it doesn’t feel well.
Before she knows it,
she’s adjusted herself,
to manage behaviour, anger and the ‘illness’.

When the abuse doesn’t look like it,
it can be quiet, insidious control and
a gradual, unrecognised ceding of power.
Better not rock the boat,
there’ll be a wall of silence to dance around
for days.
It feels like responsibility, entrapment
but in just having those feelings
she feels so disloyal.

When the abuse is gone
then it takes a long time
to wake up from the stupor
and look with fresh eyes.
To change behaviours,
expect more from the new.

That was a quiet,
sticky,
suffocating,
trap.