Winged Wishes

Winged Wishes

You once told me
people become stars
when they die,

their names
are silhouettes of
winged wishes
blown to the skies,

here I am
a grain of sadness
at the bottom of an hourglass,

weeping in silence

waiting for the sky
to unveil the face
of happiness
in a Murakami poem,

wandering through
obituaries of seasons
like a sun's shadow,

I kiss blurry constellations
in the palms of tomorrow

in exchange
for a smile.


𝒜𝓂𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒹𝒶𝓂
02.15.26