Accidents: A Collection of Poetry

even

i.
even in my highest of highs
and lowest of lows, you were there,
but i was not brave enough
to be with you.
it seems life was not built
on merely words, nor measured
with distance, nor the time we spent
waiting.

ii.
and if i was worth something,
you certainly have seen what makes me—
you certainly found a reason why
i deserved to exist, though you wouldn't tell.
perhaps you simply cannot explain,
and i understand;
i, myself, have felt this way. for instance
i've always felt like you were
the cold in in morning coldest:
not the kind of cold that would freeze
the tears from my eyes and imprison
such feelings; not the cold
that makes me helplessly shiver, feeling
despair.
but you are cold, the kind of cold
that makes me want to stay in bed all day
and snuggle, and enjoy such little pleasures as
a nice book and hot chocolate.
there are things that can only be
expressed like this, especially
when you're still in my waking thoughts. even
in my highest of highs,
and lowest of lows you were there
— and this was supposed to be easy —
but i was not brave enough to be with you.

iii.
longing for another, after all,
is not such a simple thing.
yes: my blood sings for you, and every
single cell in my body
wants you.
but what if your morning comes to a close?
it is a natural thing to ask,
after all of the mornings and evenings and days came to leave me
in a dry state of almost-belonging, always longing
for the world to prove that it does not work against me.
but even in my highest of highs
and lowest of lows, you were there
but i was not brave enough to be with you.

iv.
and where are you now?
have you finally gone and found me lacking, too?
no— forgive me, if i am too selfish
and i make these faults about you.
the simple truth is that i knew:
even in my highest of highs
and lowest of lows, you were there
but i was not brave enough
to be with you.

— A. P.