This is a piece created from a prompt from Maya Stein’s Press Play. I truncated the last paragraph because it was too personal but I like the ending to this truncated piece as well. Enjoy:
The songs we could have been singing, the dances we could have danced, the words we could have spoken… how long do they stay with us, or do they fade away eventually like everything else?
The songs we could have been singing when we were happy, when we were sad, when we were angry… Why did we not sing them? Because we couldn’t sing, or because we were not alone and we did not want to be heard singing?
The songs we could have been singing, the tears we could have shed. Could not but did not.
The songs we could have been singing, could have sung… I don’t remember any actually because singing isn’t my thing. I cannot get the notes right if there are no instruments to set the tune for me, I can’t sing. But I like songs, or I like lyrics and the stories they tell. I collect lyrics.
Moonlake's Fiction Space 