And my bottle 

is now empty; 

wasted it all 

I could’ve cleared the fog;

wishing for your explanation on 

the stares we exchanged, the very obvious parrot-bullying 

and the numbers of strokes your fingers brushed

through my strands of hair,

I could’ve cleared the fog,

hoping for your details about the 

stargazing night, the two bottles of beer as

a little kick forward, or the subconscious push and pulling 

my beanie off then asking why I apologized 

for dropping into your embrace,

I could’ve cleared the fog, 

expecting for your answer instead of drawing circles, 

the infinite loop of denial then accepting the reality

without resolution on things when we were already

running out of time;

I should’ve cleared the fog,

thinking it was important enough to get it from you, 

including the indirect hints and immediate responses or

the sudden actions reflected when the air

between our distance seemed a little off, 

I should’ve cleared the fog, 

picking up more courage to throw it 

at your indifferent expression, whether 

they said you were good enough to keep things in, 

whether you were thinking otherwise or avoiding it;

I should’ve cleared the fog, 

letting it all out in raw sentences instead of 

wasting emotions in constructing them nice, 

giving you no chance to replay the 

potential practiced lines before retorting 

my blank mind with the blunt full-stops.

Maybe I could’ve cleared it up; but

See how I smile with tears beneath, how I laugh with cries in between;

my eyes ensuring ‘everything’s fine’, the gaze struggling for everything to end.

As I walk in the dark, whispers tailing behind; down the deep alley of scattered lost memories.