I was already late
When the time to leave the party
came around.
As my foot passed over the threshold
it landed on crumpled paper
and stuffing from the furniture
they tore open.

I looked around the empty room,
strewn of course
with broken glass
of bottles
of cheap wine
and *****.

One or two stragglers had staked a claim
to the last two chairs not completely maimed
in the struggle
of having a good time.

Their faces blank of personality,
gave notion
that the real people
had long since left them
behind as well.

Pounding bass struggled to boom,
but rasped sadly
from the rattling broken speaker.

I ask one of the stragglers
about a black haired girl
who came up to my shoulder
and they both say she left with a guy.

A plain round clock
was hung on a close wall
it's plastic lens shattered
and the hands stopped
at ten minutes before I entered.