Photographs Poem by Rebecca Mummery

Ah, but these photographs,
So unbelievable, demonstrates purity.
Yes, but I edited them, changed them, enhanced them...
They were never quite so pretty before.

Ok, I understand that,
I understand the cause for such a pleasant result.
But does this mean that I am not to see you other than in such sparkling waters, stretched on screen...
Does this mean that you are simply insufficient?

And she hesitates, she utters, her face; a burning embarrassment,
The curves in her skin, the blotches on the surface...
'Oh', she cried. 'That's not beauty! '
'And nor is this falseness...', replied he.

'How do you expect a juggle of affairs...'
'How do I catch the contents in hands to hold? '
'How must I love you, and admire you,
When you are not here to hold? '

'Aren't these photographs enough to sustain our love? '
And she looked pain in the eye, her reflection through glass..
He sighed, 'You've no idea what beauty be. Beauty often reflects our honesty..'
'I could not paint myself on a screen, and confess my love...'

She frowned, another disgust for glass to smirk at.
'I did not wish you to see me when I'm like this..'
'And I'm like this everyday..'
''T 'is only when I leave the door, that I create a photograph of awe'.

And both chanted:
'Ah, but these photographs,
So believable, demonstrates perfection.
Yes, but they lied to me, manipulated me, fawned me...
They're not so pretty, as I discovered reality.'