They tell us to speak.
To free the ache in our caged chest.
So we rip open our ribs,
to let the fears spill out.
Expecting,
hoping,  
that someone will try to catch them.
Envelop them in their arms.
Secure them in their anxiety.
Warm them with their kindness.
We believe that someone,
just maybe,
quite possibly,
however foolishly,
will help us burden the pain
that's trying to collapse
our already fragile hearts.
That someone might clear away
our scarlet, stained tears.
And lend us a hand
as we slip farther and farther,
towards the edge of the blackest chasm.
But even as our eyes scream, "save me".
And our blue lips tremble,
They choose to look away.
Because they knew.
They knew they never really meant it.
It was just empty,
pointless words to try out.
Throw around like party confetti.
      "I will listen"              "I won't judge"
                    "trust me"
"I'm hear for you"                    
                                "Believe­ me"
  "Maybe I can help"                    "Don't hold it in"
                       "it'll be OK"

And we believed it.
For we really, really wanted to.
We wanted to know that we would,
in fact, be, "OK"
And still, here we are.
Smiling as we beat ourselves
into invisible,
blue and purple hues.
Until we let go of the edge
and finally 
                 F
  
                     A
    
                          L
      
                             L
                              
                               ­   L
                                
                           ­            L
                                            into the blackness of the chasm.

Leaving them to finish burying us.