lilac

maybe the world decided that lucy gray stayed in that forest forever — dissolved in cold and betrayal.

that her voice faded beneath her lover’s hand, right before his finger twitched on the trigger. but i believe — she survived.

which means she found freedom. not the kind they give to victors, draped in honors, but the real kind —the kind that runs wild through your hair. thaat leaves your ribs aching with emptiness.

which means she watched from afar the one she loved. who chose not her but an officer’s academy. not life, but blood on his hands. even not her life

which means she remembered him — attentive, tender. the one who looked at her with wonder and kissing the scars the arena left. and then with the same hand that had touched her cheek lifted a gun.

« do I look like a wild animal to you, sweetheart ? »

which means lucy gray wrote a song. this song was bitter, sorrowful and farewell. and maybe she sang it to the stars. maybe to the mockingjays who caught the tune and carried it through the woods — until the wind took it to a place where no one knew her name anymore.

maybe she sang it to someone else. someone who knew how to listen.