sixteen in poems

“Just talk to someone.”
the messenger list of who i’ve been talking to is a problem. i just don’t trust any of them.
“You have to trust a couple?”
sure. maybe. they’ve got big capital P problems. Problems. no way. i can’t unload on them. they can’t shoulder my burdens. they shouldn’t have to. they need help, not to help me.
“Don’t you do it for them?”
sure do. yes. obviously. that’s why i know what’s going on. aren’t you listening to me? that’s why i can’t give them mine to hold. i know how full their hands, how heavy their hearts because i’ve carried them when others won’t. i’ve been the lifeline voice when they’re afraid of killing themselves. when they needed help desperately. when they needed someone to find a service for them. to keep them here. to keep them steady. to be an anchor or a dock. i am not their burden.
“I’m sure they want to help. Didn’t you say they’re always offering help?”
they don’t want to help me, they want to comfort me. i can’t be comforted. it’s superficial at best and doesn’t do anything. how can they help me when i can’t even help myself? can’t recognize what help needs to look like? can’t figure out what would help me? when it feels like manipulation, covered in venom. a snake bite waiting for skin. it’s trust. can’t you see? i don’t trust them to help me.
“Have you tried?”
let me show you the scars.