(Continues from Enter the Void)

Her story spun round her finger sparkling
in the fluorescent light bathing the bar.
Two karats of misery and divorcing
woes twined with gold promises, she discards.

This real housewife found the rich and famous
fast and furious as well as shameless.

I sighed. Her story had played out along the glitzy thoroughfares time and again, always the same. A jilted lover, a misplaced mistress or a sweetheart left brokenhearted–life treated them all the same.

When you play with big money, you lose big time. But who listens to a ghost? Not the doll huffing and shaking her goldilocks as the bartender slides over a glass. Ice cubes tinkle as the cup slows. But she keeps spinning the ring she’s staring at ignoring the Jack and coke.

It’s been too long since I had a sip. Can a ghost drink? Bending over the straw, I take it between my teeth and suck. Nothing comes through the red plastic to tease my taste buds. I sniff but inhale nothing. Maybe ghosts have nothing to taste with. Annoyed, I withdraw. Who am I kidding?

I’m a bodiless voyeur, a specter seeking his story. If I find it, maybe I’ll know who I am and who I was. Maybe the knowledge will save me and maybe it won’t.

I turn away and walk through the glass door away from the neon signs screaming my favorite beverages’ names, away from the distraught doll and her tired tale. The street’s calling me and singing a million stories. One of them might be mine.

For OctPoWRiMo, 31 poems in 31 days–all part of one story. Watch me do it.
Find the earlier parts of this series here.

All 31 prompts are pictured below.



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7 thoughts on “Sparkling

  1. Okay this is definitely my favorite part thus far. Your poem here, especially the lines Rosema pointed out (she keeps beating me to it! Lol!) is so heartbreaking. You weave the emotions in that poem perfectly!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. oh wooow. her emotions are so tangible dear Mel! And what I love most about his is that…. this is storytelling through descriptions and not by saying it. i especially love these lines:
    “Two karats of misery and divorcing
    woes twined with gold promises, she discards.”

    They throb.


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