Blackberry Jam MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   Time opens all wounds

I remember his voice

on the answering machine

his lips were so sweet

like mother's blackberry jam.

I lick my fingers

and yearn for that taste.

Needles of rain sew my hair

flat against my head

as the clouds cover my sorrow

and the buzz in my head increases

the sweet melody of words

sing the joy of knowing him.

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