Virginia is for lovers, sure, but nobody mentioned the traffic on the interstate corridor that turns a two hour drive into a five hour meditation on your life choices. That's what the black heart is for. It's love, but it's the kind of love that's survived four seasons in a single Tuesday, a surprise ice storm in April, and humidity that fogs your sunglasses the second you step outside in July.
This is for the people who ride for the state anyway. The ham so salty it should come with a warning label. The peanuts. The fact that half the country thinks we're just a suburb of D.C. and the other half can't tell us apart from the one next door with "West" in front of it. Black heart energy: devoted, a little bitter, not taking questions.
Soft enough to live in, built to survive the wash cycle and your questionable laundry habits. Fits right, holds its shape, and goes with every pair of jeans you own.
