The speaker is addressing someone who makes a joke, turns, and walks away without ever noticing the damage left behind. The poem circles around one idea: this person is "never there." They aren't there in the moment after the joke, and the speaker is certain they won't be later either.
What starts as a quiet hope, that one day the person will look back and understand, slowly gives way to resignation. The speaker admits the joke has led to deep self-hatred and even thoughts of wanting to die. That is heavy, and the plain, repetitive language makes it feel more raw than dramatic.
The saddest turn comes near the end. The speaker has learned to hide the pain, and calls this "unlucky me, or maybe lucky." Hiding it protects them, but it also guarantees the other person will never see it. The mood is bleak, tired, and lonely, with a sense of being quietly unseen.