Krystal is a short, quiet poem about someone who was never really present. The speaker begins with two small lists: "stars, art, and coffee" and "fights, heart, and eyes." Together they sketch the whole relationship, the dreamy, creative, comfortable side and the arguments and intense looks that came with it. These, the speaker says, are the only words they ever shared about this person.
Then the tone turns more bitter and tired. The speaker asks whether Krystal would send the news to their home when they aren't there, or break it in a way that spares them pain. These questions feel half hopeful and half sarcastic, as if the speaker already expects the answer. The last line, "I knew it. you were never there," lands flatly, like someone finally admitting something they had known all along.
The mood is wistful, hurt, and resigned. The plain wording and loose punctuation make it feel like a private note written late at night, which fits the "00.10" under the title.