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This tea, I steep
red apple, your kiss
alizarin crimson, wet
impossibly sweet
you soothe, I drink
your lingering lips
poured with honey milk
by the fire, consumed
of love infused
with herbs and leaves
this tea, I drink.
Thinking about him is now a habit.
A bad habit.

I scream his name in my head until having headache.
I always have headache.
O.P
Ashen grey, weathered wood
splintered, white bone
hollowed by the desert sun
skull and backbones
laid to rest, wind blown
sunk in sifting sands, exposed
by wet washing squalls
drinking water into steam
interwoven, dead with weeds
iridescent beetles and scorpions
glints of pyrite, diamond stones
the haunting wind, that moans
wild through hollows and holes.
God draws out
the deepest, sharpest
most tormenting pain in us
brings it straight to the surface
with raw nerves and ugly roots exposed
then meets us right there in that exact place
with the tender, soothing, healing balm of His love
"I love the LORD, for He heard my voice; He heard my cry for mercy. Because He turned His ear to me, I will call on Him as long as I live. The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came over me; I was overcome by distress and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the LORD: 'LORD, save me!' The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was brought low, He saved me. Return to your rest, my soul, for the LORD has been good to you. For you, LORD, have delivered me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before the LORD in the land of the living."  
~ Psalm 116:1-9

~~~
The paradox of the Christian life
is that while we are called to die
we are also called to fight and
while we are called to fight
we are also called to love
But to die and keep dying
is the crux of our fight
and love for God is what
enables us to win the battle
Nothing held onto,
nothing remains
only You, Lord,
only Your claims
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