Sacred Heart

Half ex-voto, half amulet. The sacred heart is the oldest symbol I know for loving anyway, and the eye inside it is the part of you that refuses to be lied to.

It burns on a sky-blue field because grief and devotion are the same colour to me — wide open, a little cold, endlessly bright.

Every pearl on the border and every link of falling chain was placed by hand. Two small brass skulls guard the top corners; they are the doorkeepers, and they only let the true thing in.

Made for a threshold — above a door, a bed, or an altar.