Pluck me from this horrid place that I have lived in for so long. No, not from my literal home with you, my love, but from the jail of its inner rooms.
You know the jail itself is solely in my brain. Outside with you are miles of beauty. And yet you only ever look through my jail window at me, saturated by grey and black. Though I do see a glimpse of the outside beauty past your face, it seems surreal and distant. Your face looks sad and frustrated. I kiss it through the jail window, but we both want more.
Every day my dear love visits me in the early mornings and at night, but the visits seem so short. I deep down want to be with you fully and forever more, my love. Not just short-term conjugal visits. I want to skip with you through the flowers, fly through the endless sky, and glide down the mountains on our rumps. No barriers, no chains, but breezes blowing past our cheeks. Not even separated by the confines of our visual bodies.
I know you also want to run away with me somewhere to escape. I wish that thought didn’t scare me so much, but the lock seems so intimidating. Please find a pick, try every key, and pluck me from my current reality.
The stress on both sides of the locked door is causing us to lose our graying feathers, but I spy new bright cobalt blue pin feathers pushing through on both our wings. Try your old wing feather as a pick, and use mine with it. Let them work together as the opening key.
I can see the door opening in my dreams, and light and color shining through. We take our first full looks at each other after several years partially concealed. What do we see? Bodies full of life again, new bright feathers head to foot. Pluck me out of jail right now with your beak, and set me free, with thee.