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.

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.

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.

red wrists,
fresh blood.
God won't be able
to save everyone.