Blue Thrum

I live in the blue. Sometimes in the azure cloudless sky, but more often in the dark water that laps against the shore at night. Blacker than blue. Honorary blue.

Depression is a constant.

Like the hum of a street light. Sometimes life is noisy and you can’t really hear it over other sounds. But close your eyes and the dull thrumming returns to your temples, to the quagmire of regret that lie encased in the blue that you can’t let go of, and reshape and wear anew like the Hope Diamond, no longer a pommel for an emperors sword, but a symbol of survival and fragility, encased and protected from all save the blue, and the hum in the darkness.

-Eugene Evans 2021