why the confectioner's daughter in trailer #33 killed herself

Maybe there were too many cakes and marzipan. Dust in the icing, gumdrops like buttons that made you want to cry. Too many nights framed by porch light and longing. So swollen with yearning you couldn't even count the stars. Maybe it was the taste of ache, its bitter sweetness lingering too long on the tongue. Rows of cinnamon rolls like angry sentinels, judging her. Maybe it rained too much. The yard littered with rusted baking pans and dead mattresses. Maybe it was because when she looked at the trees she saw her body swinging from them. Every boy and every knife in the cutting board suddenly too beautiful. Faces in the cupcakes, always the sad scent of chocolate in the air, flour clumping and pasting in her hair. Her hands paralyzed and unmoving, sticky from all that sugar. Sticky from all that wanting.