My bag’s maroon I bought it in a maze of thrift shop-frenzy-haze.
The leather is tanned it seems weather-beaten like its owner’s thoughts crammed to the top full of stuff and belongings an emerald wallet, always empty, but the card.
Grocery store bills crumpled up, never thrown out my two favorite lipsticks pen and paper in case a lyric fits whatever scenario.
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Me and my bag will find ourselves in my keys, a dismantled biro guess, I’m no clean freak hero.
The imagery of this piece was so good! I could visualize exactly what the bag and its contents look like. It’s almost nostalgic thinking about the bits and bobs that litter a bag’s space.
A little bit of Bukowski in this to me, must be the mundanity. A nice read, but an excellent cover linked at the bottom! Your singing is impressive, as is your guitar ability
