IF I WERE BRAVE #2

If I were brave
I would challenge
the way you remember
what went down; call
you on your rewrite
of the history; remind
you that your misery
lives in your house,
in your skin--that I am
a convenient
scapegoat, 
the punching
bag to make 
the pain
go away

I would remind you
that you rolled up on me
told me you were in love
called me all through the day
for days on end, texted me
all through the night
called love out of me
I would say 
I responded to you,
that we discovered
that we were
good for each other
and to each other
and afraid of losing
each other because
of these truths

I would tell you that
you're full of crazy
if you think rewriting
it, accusing yourself
or me of something
"wrong" of "bad"
will fix what was
already broken
I say, you're
delusional
for no good
reason.

I never was the "problem,"
friend. I was the answer
to the question in your 
head: could love be
easy and kind without
rancor or anger, without
screaming or slamming doors. 
You discovered it could be 
with me--and that discovery
scared you because it
means you either have
to make a different
choice or just keep
lying to yourself.

Valerie Bridgeman
© September 30, 2013