Gold and bubbly

like a flute

of Champaign,

faded like

an empty glass?

Laughter rises

as bubbles pop;

but the sobs fall

as glass breaks.

The life

of a starlet

left in the

darkening skies.

Lovers as rare

as expensive liquor

caress her bed,

and tickle her nose.

But they all leave

just as cheap

as that from a tap;

fleeing the daylight

and renewed lies.

The life

of a starlet

left in the

lonely nights.

An empty bottle

sits on the

bedside table,


A beautiful blonde

lays among sheets


to rest on a

cold metal slab.

The life

of a woman

left alone

to burn out.


a take on the life of Marilyn Monroe