She takes pictures

to try to hold in emotions

she is afraid she'll never remember.

Beautiful hideous people

with candy-coated lips

and powder-clogged sinuses

they mean her no harm,

she tells herself

through the two way mirror

with the mad, mad hatter

and the ever-crushing grin.

This is love.

Or so she hears.

Giving yourself to another

endlessly

wholly

unquestioningly.

And when he gives back

with fingers and hips

sugar-coated lips

she knows

that the box in the closet

behind all the books

will forever be kind

oh,

so

very

kind

in helping her to never

ever

forget.