Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. (Unfortunately)
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Gale Hawthorne was a song
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If Gale was a song,
He would be gloomy like his thoughts. Like the Seam. Like the mines. He would talk about injustice and anger. He would talk about differences between my golden curls and his stormy eyes. He would talk about hate. His hate toward the Capitol. The town. The Mayor's daughter in her white Reaping dress.
If Gale was an expression,
He would be a frown. Like the frown he wore when he saw me laughing with Prim and his siblings. Like the frown that accented when I asked him to bring me in the woods. Like the frown that crawled away of his face and turned into an amused arc when I fell backwards, my feet trapped in one of his stupid snares.
If Gale was an emotion,
He would be sadness. Sadness as he saw his best friend struggling for her life. He would be jealousy as she fell in love with another man. He would be confusion as I slipped my hand in his, my lips pressed against the edge of his mouth, "She'll come back to you Gale."
If Gale was a shoulder,
He would be drained. And I wish I could have carried the heavy burden that weighed on him.
If Gale was a smile,
He would only appear in the woods. Or when little Posy would jump in his arms. And the day his lips grinned at me, and only me, I was sure he could hear my heart beating fast like a million drums pounding in my chest. And I couldn't help but falling in love with it.
If Gale was a sound,
He would be as quiet as the morning rains on Saturdays, when he would be standing on my back porch, strawberries and hunting boots. Black strands before his eyes. He would be as quiet as his soundless steps. He would be soft like the sound of his voice when we talked in the dark meadow. I would listen to it as he told me about his days in the mines. He would ask about mine. And when a shooting star would rush above our heads, I'd close my eyes and make a wish. I would wish that he could look at me with the same eyes he looked at her.
If Gale was a gaze,
He would be a fire, like the rebellious flame that crackled down in his chest.
If Gale was a feeling,
He would drive away my loneliness. He would make me believe that I'm not just the Mayor's daughter. He would make me feel safe, like the day he held me in his strong arms, the smell of wood and fresh grass filling every inch of my weary soul. "You're not alone, Madge. I'm here whenever you need me." And his words hovered around me like a flying dove.
If Gale was a promise,
Then he would be broken. He would be faked. Because those were just soothing words. Like a false promise daddy made to stop my cries. Like a false promise a doctor makes to his dying patient.
If Gale was a weather,
He would be winter. That could have explained the shivers that skimmed my body under his warm touch. And he would be as cold and distant as the winter winds. Because when she came back, his eyes wouldn't light up my back porch anymore. His laughter would become as rare as a glimpse of sunlight in a blizzard. Yet, I didn't mind. I didn't mind running through the keen icy blows with the morphling box in hands. Because even if he had left me, he had left me with memories.
And in the sheets of my bed, I would think about his silver gaze that had the power to melt my heart. I would think about how his long and calloused fingers played sometimes with my hair. I would think about his olive skin glistening under the sunbeams. Sometimes, his beautiful laughter would haunt me down to my dreams. Sometimes, when I would close my eyes with my fingers dancing on my keys, I could feel his breath against my blotchy cheek.
And if I was a girl,
I would be the Girl on Fire. But not the strong and beautiful one. Not the one he'd fall in love with. I would be the lonely Mayor's daughter with nothing but a flaming white dress.
And if Gale was a hero,
He would be Gale Hawthorne. He would be a survivor. He would be a soldier. He would be a savior. He would be the one who owned my heart.
And if life was a fairytale,
I would be the princess in her burning castle, waiting desperately for my prince to save me.
I called for him, but he wasn't listening.
Did he try? Did he forget? Did he mind?
If Gale was a song,
He would be my death lullaby.
So now that I'm nothing but a glimpse of memory,
I wish his thoughts sometimes drift to my blue eyes and golden hair.
I wish he'll come back to take my ashes and spread them in the meadow.
….
A/n: So this is my very first OS. I don't how to call it. I guess a poem. Or maybe an ode…I don't know. I tried to put Madge and Gale's untold relationship in few lines. Thanks for reading and sorry about the mistakes.
Also I'd love to read your criticisms and feedbacks.
Alanys.