The Blue Girl Has Waited Long Enough

I'm sitting on the rings of Saturn with Oakley, who is texting his girlfriend.  Apparently there's great reception here.

It's so dark.

It's so bright.

Definitely a starry night.

"Serenity Blue," Oakley said, looking up from his phone, which lit up his face.  "Serenity Blue," he said, "tell me about love."

"No thanks, Oakley Johnson.  Scars."

"Isn't that the best kind of love?  The kind that scars you?"

"Does she have scars that match yours?"

"Yes!  Etched on our hearts!  They hurt--wasn't supposed to happen.  But so worth it.  You can't love without scars."

"True.  But you're in a haze.  Loving isn't worth it for everyone."

"Let me guess--"

"Yep."

And I put my hand on my chest and felt the scorching against the back of my eyelids and Oakley knew a scarlet letter lay there, scratched along my veins, yet nobody else on Earth or the moon or Saturn had an S like that anywhere within their souls.

Not an S for me.

Not for Serenity.

"No wonder you're Blue.  You love young.  You love deep.  You love Long."

"And how Long does it take for something in return?"

"Well...at least you love."




Here is a song, so listen:  Here is a Heart by Jenny Owens Young.