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Is this the Face that thrills with awe
  Seraphs who veil their face above?
Is this the Face without a flaw,
  The Face that is the Face of Love?
Yea, this defaced, a lifeless clod,
  Hath all creation's love sufficed,
Hath satisfied the love of God,
  This Face the Face of Jesus Christ.
 Jan 2016 Alexandria Merle
jrunje
missing you was
like living your dream
come true
then finding out
that was all
it ever was -
just a dream.

missing you was
like making two cups of coffee
in the morning
before reality punches you
in the stomach
or worse yet -
in the chest.

missing you was
sleeping on the left side of the bed
afraid to touch the right side
leaving it unmade,
the way it was -
the day you left.

missing you was
above all, i think
just a game of waiting
for you
to return.
 Dec 2014 Alexandria Merle
Syd
tomorrow was never promised. I know that, I guess I always knew that. one day too many yesterday's ago you told me that eventually, one day, we'd be waking up to each other in a bed two sizes too big for only two people but that was okay because your voice always had a way of filling every empty space, the void in the air or the empty between our sheets. a bed two sizes too big can quickly become two sizes too small when all you want to do is fall into a set of arms that are no longer laying there. too many yesterdays ago we spoke of tomorrows and forevers, of sunday mornings and tuesday brunch and kitchen counters and coffee tables. we spent days staring at globes picking out all the places where we knew we'd never go, and I couldn't breathe when you finally decided to pack your bags and leave.
part of me hoped you'd come back.
part of me still does.
you became a ghost the day
you let go of all that was left
and filled the void with
a more shallow hole than the one
that deprived the love
you could not hold onto
the distance between life and death
grew to be
a walking advantage for yourself
and seemingly you were okay with that
I watched you drift away
trying to hold onto what remains
but you slowly fell out of grip
and I found myself lying on the ground
where you last took a real breath
long before anxiety took over
and your chest caved within
a time before our love destroyed
who we were
and who together we shall be
but now your soul still lingers
around the room our relationship grew upon
keeping temperatures cold
and always reminding me
our love was worth the pain I feel tonight
our relationship was built poetically
allowing our deepest thoughts to tear us apart
for I was fragile you touched my soul gently
in hope to save ourselves from future part
together enduring a graveled road
a chance for love was rather difficult
the opportunities came in quite a load
all that failed was at my fault
though your absence was my only fear
I opened the door that let you walk
now glancing back into the mirror
they were my mistakes that you would mock
my love for you has grown to be
more than just a poetic melody
it's three am that I hate most,
a time where all my feelings
drain from my sinful soul,
allowing the darkness to retrieve it's way back into the vast space,
when memories flood the page
and my chest caves from
the damage you've done to my heart,
three am is the time where my life
falls out of place
and I loose control of all emotion,
my mind is screaming and heart is racing
I hope and dream for any way out
but I'm stuck living in the everlasting hole my chest occupies
that continuously swallows me in
night by night,
always at three am
red wrists,
fresh blood.
God won't be able
to save everyone.
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