The birdcage

The sunlight of the morning falls aslant through the window across my face, and when I open my eyes, I see an image of you. 

What are you doing when I'm not there? I wonder. Do you think of me? Or wonder if I'm doing the same? I wish I could snap my fingers and magically be by your side in a flash, or gather the strength to break the boundaries that separate us with a giant hammer. This war, this senseless fight over nothing, is wearing me thin and I wish it were over. Oh, how I pray that one side or the other wins and declares victory. Then we could get on with our lives and pick up where we left off.

Do you miss me, my heart? I miss you. The walls of this prison are cold and lonely and the bars that cover my only window to the outside world remind me of a birdcage. Oh, my darling, if only I were a bird in a birdcage, then I could soar straight to your very door, and you could rub on my head with your forefinger while I sing to you sweet songs of happiness and desire.

Now, the sun is falling from the sky like a giant millstone and the light from the stars are starting to pockmark the waves of the ocean which surround me. A brig in no place for a woman, my dear. And I hope you'll never have to endure one. The conditions are loathsome, much like one of Dante’s hell circles, icky and vile, and the solitary confinement of my abode is worse than the afterlife in a coffin.

Oh, my heart, I heard the guard talking to one of his commanders; the war rages and there is no end in sight; and there’ll be no happy endings for me. I know that now. Because things like happy endings only happen on the big screen. And since I’m not a famous actress or a made up character in a storybook, all hope lies at the bottom of a deep well. Alas, the guard comes with a key for the lock. So please don’t forget me as I’ve never forgotten you.