flame turns blue

Through the lemon trees, the diamonds of lightflameturnsblue
Break in splinters on the pages where I write
That if I lost you I don’t know what I’d do
Burn forever where the flame turns blue
That if I lost you I don’t know what I’d do
Burn forever where the flame turns blue

In the morning I will sing
In the morning I will sing

I can’t explain this space I’ve been in. I don’t talk about it much. I haven’t found words. Or at least not words that string together into sentences that make sense. The feelings are less like feelings and more like sounds, like fragments of songs–both alleluia and Job-like lament.

Most of my tattoos fall into one of two categories: marks of my beloved and my departed. This one marks both. Sam has been gone for over 7 months now. I still don’t have words. But she is now with me, on my wrist like a favorite timepiece. Time ticks on, and all I can do is get up each morning and try to write a new song.

Hum hum hum-hum, hum hum hummmm.

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