Suspend me and my disbelief (please)

Where have all the people who need people gone?
Well, let me tell you about how
The luckiest people in the world are now gone from it,
Extinct, or at least constantly endangered by their own moral fiber
Whisked from the stage by the trapdoor of natural selection,
(which makes it sound as if to be empathetic or not to be is a choice,
and not just the question)
They will never even come on stage again, though the curtain calls

And so
I will never stand before an audience again, but I will always be an actress
For I want to survive, if only as an extinct creature who believes she's alive
But if in the improvisational exercise that is life,
You were to stretch a truth before me like a painted set on wheels,
I would accept your reality, play along, think on my feet, while you stand on yours
If you were to say the word, leap from a precipice, you would correctly assume
That I will be at the bottom to catch you, at any cost,
Even if it crushes me to the ground, out of recognition,
I will tell you that I believed your performance and remind you
That your next entrance is in five minutes
And go backstage to wait for my cue

But I know I die in Act II
For I cannot suspend my disbelief so much to believe that you
Would do the same for me
If I were to cling on to a truth, place myself in that precarious place where
Reality opens into the abyss of stagecraft,
You would step on my fingers, which you covered in glow-in-the-dark tape
So you would know exactly where to stand so the spotlight would glorify your shoulders
I would fall, and you would wait at the bottom,
Not to catch me, but to watch me crash and burn, a cartoonish mushroom cloud of special effects ascending above me, along with you,
Then you would light your smile in warm, artificial tones, appeal to the audience with a smirk practiced in dressing room mirrors,
And say, gesturing at my dramatic exit, "Well, folks, it doesn't look like skiing is good in Aspen this July."
They would laugh and applaud and you would bow at my expense
You would be the comedic hero, and I would be the fool, the crying clown who evokes laughter,
All because I trusted you to trust me

So when I tell you that "I love you,"
I'm only playing along with the scene you created, only following your lead
With my supporting lines
I say, "We are in love," until I believe it,
Which is when you choose to negate, say, "No, it's only make-believe"
And with my curse of honoring the rules, the blocking that blocks me from escaping
that the truth is I need you,
The mist dissolves, transient and delicate and manufactured by a backstage machine, as now I realize it always was
And I have nowhere to stand, for you have pulled the ground from beneath my feet
You have taken from me my suspended reality
And now I am no one that will not make me
And I have nothing that you will not give me

Love is not a monologue,
and you will not catch