Blue Bird.

There are pin pricks in the sky that let the light leak through. There are cold breezes that shove themselves in, too. 

She dances among the shadow spaces into the pin pricks. She tries her best to live in light and not let dark in. She tries to stay smooth so none of it can stick. 

But they are still clinging to her skin. Slowly sliding down the smooth into puddles that she steps in. The bad things fade and the good things stay. She accidentally steps in the puddles and those stains only sometimes fade.

When the light shines in, the stains are only more visible. When the darkness falls the memories are more formidable. 

Take to the shallows, darling. Take to the trees. Sweet Blue Bird, just leave them be. Stretch your unused wings. Leave them behind and make them wish they could still hear you sing.