Bar Fly

Tonight she easily found a seat at the nearly deserted bar of the pub near her home. She sat alone listening to a background murmur of conversation from the tube and a game of darts in the corner but a few minutes alone before the bartender slid her drink over.

Swiveling in her seat, two stools away sat a man staring into his own tumbler of nostalgia. Feeling her stare, he turned to her slightly. She lifted her glass and drank.

He looked back to his own while the keep drew her another. This one she left sitting on the damp napkin as she contemplated heart matters.

Unsurprisingly within a few moments, her impromptu companion opened his mouth.

“She was the best thing that ever happened in my life.” This he spoke carefully to the glass sitting before him.
“He was the best in mine,” she told her own, nodding.

“She loved me right up until the day she didn’t.” He lamented.
“He made me feel like no other.” She countered.

“She made my skin burn and my mind quiet.”
“He brought peace to my soul.”
“I thought we’d always be together.”
“He was my beginning and my ending.”
“She saw the pictures on my phone.”
“He hurt me beyond all reason.”
“She said she could forgive but not forget.”
“I cried as I stumbled out that door.”
“There’ll never be another like her.”
“He left a permanent mark upon my heart.”
“She won’t answer my texts.”
“I want to pick up the phone.”
“She could make me a better man.”
“He was all I ever wanted.”
“I don’t know where to go from here.”
“Maybe I should call him.”
“She needs to know….”
“He should hear me say….”

“I love you.”

Both of their hands then trembled as they lifted their drinks as one. The glasses raised, paused, held. Slowly lowered. Turning towards one another, each saw the fire of passion built on embers of love reflected back under the dim lights of the bar.

“Do you really mean that?”
“I do.”
“Can we start over?”
“I think we can.”
“I’m willing to try.”
“Me too.”
“Come home with me?”
“….. yes.”

This post was inspired, mostly, as I was reading Joseph A. Pinto‘s stuff. Check him out, you might like his barfly poetry as much as I do.

tara caribou | ©2019

20 Comments on “Bar Fly

  1. tara, i love that you wrote something so bitter-turned-sweet…i agree that we need happy endings sometimes–perhaps just as much as we need angst and sad ones. good for you for taking a step away from your usual zone (which is compelling and strong) to this softer feel. beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I really enjoyed this piece. I read it a few times. I wonder if these two strangers at the bar could actually be the two former-lovers? Their stories certainly seem to fit one another. In any case, it is another wonderful read 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

      • What is life without hope? haha

        I like the ambiguity. I think too often stories (whether they be movies, books, etc) spell out everything for the audience and don’t leave any room for imagination or creative thought.

        I like stories that leave me pondering the underlying meaning. And your writing does that!

        Liked by 1 person

        • I’m the same way, Puppeteer. It seems like many people want to do the thinking for you… or show you *exactly* the image in the creator’s mind. That’s never going to happen. We all have different perceptions, different histories and experiences leading up to the art… we just can’t all see the exact same thing. That’s the beauty in art.

          Thank you for your support. I really do appreciate it. It means the world to me.

          Liked by 1 person

The Peddler

Art Consignments in Ninilchik, Alaska

The Pegasus Fiasco

Apologies for my apologies


Poetry by Charles Joseph

Rum and Robots

We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive

Robert Charboneau.

Writer and Artist

living document

a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind

Anonymously Hal

Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts


The Lies in the Skies Exposed

Writer In Retrospect

"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou

The Tigress Awakens

Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.


Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger



Better Letters

Butterwell's Blog

my life as a piece of string

... from a silent space

%d bloggers like this: