albi.

A pale song drifts, feather-light, from the smallest corner of my world. Her wings, brushed with the faintest grey pearls, open like whispers I ache to hold. A pink beak taps gently, testing the edges of trust, and I give her all of it. She climbs my pillows, my heart, her quiet warmth filling every hollow. How does something so fragile anchor me so completely?