Frozen Fruit, Lingering Love: Micae’s “Blackberries” Stirs the Soul

Some songs don’t just play—they haunt. Vancouver indie folk-pop artist Micae’s “Blackberries” is one of those rare tracks that quietly finds its way under your skin, and stays there. With a voice as delicate as memory itself, Micae weaves a tender, wistful spell that’s both deeply personal and quietly universal.

What begins as a seemingly simple image—a bag of frozen blackberries left untouched—blossoms into a poignant meditation on love, grief, and the bittersweet ache of what’s left behind. The song’s origin story, born from a writing exercise that encouraged imagery over explanation, adds a beautiful layer to its emotional depth. Micae took that prompt and wandered—literally—gathering fragments of a past relationship like fallen petals. And the result? A song that feels like flipping through a diary you didn’t know you missed.

Her classically trained voice floats over gentle acoustic textures, never showy, just true. There’s a stillness here, a kind of quiet strength in vulnerability, that recalls early Joni Mitchell or the soft ache of Adrianne Lenker. The line between past and present blurs in every note.“Blackberries” isn’t just about heartbreak—it’s about the imprint love leaves behind, the bags of sweetness we never got to share. It’s understated, elegant, and emotionally resonant in the most natural way. A tender triumph.