For the Girl in the Bright Red Dress

We could not see you, 
Though you stood right there, 
In a bright red dress. 
We could not hear you, 
Though you broke your voice, 
Screaming into our ears. 
Instead we chose, 
The facade of smiles, 
Blind our eyes, 
To that which made us uneasy, 
Itched under our skins. 
And when your smile turned 
Your laugh, cracked, 
We looked away, coughed awkwardly, 
Waited in silence for you to put your mask back on. 
We carried on, 
Hushing away the darkness, 
Saying ''Tut-tut, show us not of such things.'' 
We should have asked, 
What you felt, 
That you can walk to the edge, 
Stare at the emptiness, 
And not be afraid. 
Now only the heap of lies that have piled up under the carpet remain. 
The kind words flow smoothly from our lips with such veneration. 
As if you were a saint. 
You yourself couldn't say who you were, 
Only that your eyes were not yours, 
Your hands were not yours, 
Your words were not yours, 
That it was someone else's life you were living. 
You had died a long time ago, 
When we could not see you, 
Though you were right there, 
In a bright red dress.