Drunk

How is it I am highly wasted? I'm sitting on a couch in my house that doesn't belong to me and thinking, 'How did I get so intoxicated?' I look over to see the man that assisted in handling me and my free booze, but I'm so drunk I don't realize he isn't there. I call him over and he sits with me. We chat, we cuddle, we kiss. I pulled away to see it wasn't him I was kissing, it was the couch pillow. 'Damn I must be hella drunk.' I get up and decide it's best to shower. Layer by layer I remove pieces of clothing I wish didn't have to smell so much of what reminded me of drugs, addictive. Entering the shower I lean my head back and let the water pound itself down my face hoping to get the visual of this man out of my eyes. But it doesn't work. My knees buckle and I fall into a puddle of warm water. 'How messed up can I be?' I can feel my body beginning to settle, and I freak out. The only thing I can do is repeat repeat repeat, I need more I need more I need more! I didn't even finish the shower, my weak legs stepped out and left wet footprints of water toxic with alcohol. My wet feet took me back to the living room where earlier, I hadn't noticed all the bottles, scattered on anything and everything that had a flat surface. One by one I picked them up and hoped that they had a trace of something that could keep him. But they didn't. Anger. Sadness. Regret. Jealousy. I picked up each bottle and slammed them against the wall, floor, and even the pictures of us; as if I hoped each bottle contained the emotions and memories of you that I wanted to be thrown away, but after each bottle, after each slam, after each piece of glass from maybe hundreds of bottles, they were still there. Years I have bottled up all the good and the bad feelings that were left from him. 'I'm fucked up.' I laid there, wet, naked, and alone, surrounded by shards of glass that threatened to cut at my skin to make me bleed out more images of him I had forgotten. Only then, surrounded by shattered bottles did I truly understand what was happening to me: I was drunk...maybe in love, I was messed up...bad, I was broken...shattered, and I was under the influence of a man who had decided to leave me.