Champagne-colored Lies

“Serve me

A glass of champagne

Please, Madam.

Alongside brioche and toast.”


I do not care

for green eggs and ham,

But a sober brunch

I hate the most.


I smile at my date,

Dressed in a fine Sunday suit.

As he orders a drink

For himself.


And after a moment,

We begin to share stories

Of regality,


And Wealth.


“London is lovely,”

I gladly confess,

“But the Virgin Islands

Have stolen my heart.”


I gesture to my bosom,

Flashing my rings.

The alcohol’s hit me,

So thus the tall-tales start.


And so the conversation goes,

The drinks and the food,

Down our throats and

Onto his bill.


It is all lovely,

Until we part ways;

Him to his car,

I to a bus uphill.


I scrounge through my purse

For just enough coins

To get me back home

Before it rains.


But my coins are scattered,

My umbrella is broken

And my cheeks are covered

In cheap makeup stains.


Perhaps I did not save

Quite enough tips

From my last humble shift

Serving brunch.


It looks like I’ll have

To wait under cover

Before my next date,

A three o’clock lunch.



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One Response to Champagne-colored Lies

  1. Darkling Pure says:

    Truly a sad story but heartfelt all the same!

    Liked by 1 person

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