A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Different cells in different facilities
but the white washed walls and cold metal bars
are the same. 
We bonded over similar pain.
I hear you tell me this connection is for life,
and I want to believe you,
but I wonder if we are only allies
thanks to a common enemy.
Will the grass still be greener
when we reach the other side?
When we’re fresh out the slammer
will our souls still be tied?

Written for Day 7 of the Kristina Mahr TTPD challenge