Lights turn on as the room starts to empty. Last call, an hour ago.
Don’t have to go home, but well..you know the rest.And as the venue clears, I can see the mess they left behind.
The floors, covered in distrust and self pity.
The main bar is coated in droplets of spilled regret. Some bottles of booze filled with wasted times.
Shattered pieces of myself gleam across the place from wall to wall.
Lots of cleaning to be done in a such a place when you are all alone. So you grab a bucket of trivial thoughts to rid the place of it’s funk. After all, you’re the only one left to sort this out.
Because when they leave the party, when they leave your heart broken, only you can clean the rubbish.
WRITE OF MIGHT 