the lowest of the low

the hardwood floor, the open window, and me: splayed out, cell phone trembling in my hand, fully clothed and bundled in wintry wear, leaning against a stuffed ottoman, dizzy with drink, leaden limbs and weak will force me to lie there, just lay there, propped up, but splayed out,

and in this state for an hour or more, I exchanged text messages with the lover I don't have to love, and in between, I text him, the real love of my life, the man who makes me feel complete even though I know better than that, that I don't need a man to make me feel complete, but time stops and the world glows and I feel content in a way that is beyond me,

but it's what we don't have that I am sharing with the lover I don't have to love. it's what we lack that I need. it's the part that we've already covered and moved past, and like anyone who's in love with being in love, I want that new heady rush of pursuit and attention, I crave it, and like a monster, I was splayed out on the floor of my friend's bedroom, unable to move, but unable to stop receiving and feeding that exchange.

some time passed where I relinquished my control and leaned over and curled into the fetal position on the floor. I awoke with a groan and climbed into my friend's bed, fully clothed, fully winter proofed, my cell phone clutched. my friend had long since gone to sleep, and her face was just under the light she'd turned on and the television flickers cast shadows across her face, and I was glad she'd let me stay there, for I knew the next day was going to be a terrible experience, but it would have been worse if I'd had to trek all the way home and trek all the way back to work.

the morning came and with it, my three alarms to wake up and go to work, and I left her place in a stumble and swayed down the street until I reached the door of the coffeeshop. I worked through the throb of what had been.

and I want to laugh at how I was, splayed out, unable to move, drunk, drunk, drunk,

but really, how do I reconcile my words?

I simply pretend they don't matter anyway.