Storytelling challenge. Find it here
THE PICTURE OF US
I can't look at that picture of us and see myself as I really am.
I see myself floating beside you, wooden, where you are real. Next to you, I'm just an instrument, waiting for your touch. Waiting for you to play me.
I drown in the symbolism of our song. The one you would never allow yourself to play. We drifted side by side, moved by the same forces, yet you would never just take me in your arms and make me sing.
I deserved better. I desired you.
A song that never was, never will be, haunts me to this day. Empty notes resound in my chest, fading before they leave me. The song of 'us' is no song at all. Or. if it is, it is the sound of my dream, dying.