Cry for me, Ozora crystal tears fall

through the prism of your silence; every shard

sings a violet storm. I keep your frost inside

my pulse—blue, unmelting—whispering auroras

back to the sky. If my pain can be beautiful,

let it refract in your hands tonight;

shatter me gently, and I’ll glitter forever

at the feet of your dawn.

One wish before the tide turns silver,

whisper it to the wind that knows my name;

let it ride the last whitecaps of summer,

fold it into moonlight,

slip it beneath your pillow—

a spark that still believes in dawn.

If the sky forgets to burn,

if the roses fail to open,

this wish will keep breathing

inside the shell of every song we sang.

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