The Aftertaste of Sorrow

~ Vincent Mars ~ 18 Comments

I carry you around with me, A pebble in my shoe, A backpack heavy with regrets, An invisible blade stuck in my chest, A blood stain on my conscience, A wound in my memory, Through which images and scenes seep through, Remnants from better times, When you and me, The two of us, Shared a … Continue reading The Aftertaste of Sorrow

Woman In Red

~ Vincent Mars ~ 9 Comments

She is the kind of woman For whom the red trench coat was invented The kind of woman Red lipstick paints her lips so well The kind of woman Made for photographing on the street, Best admired from a distance Haughty, proud, narcissistic Or only appearing so, Alone in a crowded city A red raincoat … Continue reading Woman In Red