[ WP ] Turn your favourite song into a piece of prose/poetry without mentioning the song .

**Here's my own attempt at the WP. I took a few liberties, but the story of the song is mostly there, but it was left too open, so I closed it. ** 
 
 Josie and I walked through the streets of our town, a small affair, though welcoming. Lit only by the dirty orange of the lamp posts, we strolled hand in hand. I ’ d moved here from the UK a few years prior, and met Josie online after feeling low, then discovering she went to my high school, but was in the year below. We ’ d been dating about a year at this point. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; ‘ It ’ s cold out tonight ’ I noted. Josie looked to me, turning her mouth into that devilish grin she has when I ’ m being stupid. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; ‘ It ’ s September, at eleven o ’ clock - what did you expect? ’ 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I returned the smile. ‘ Well yeah, but I just meant like colder than usual. ’ 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Her eyes rolled. ‘ How did *you* get into college? ’ The joke stung a little bit, not because I was offended, but because it took me away from this night, and being with Josie. I was to go tomorrow, and, although she rarely showed emotion, I could tell it was eating away at her too. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; ‘ Pure charm, I guess ’ I replied, wiping away the blue emotion. Josie just laughed and we continued our journey through the poorly lit streets. 
 
 
 Back at home, I ’ d put extra blankets on my bed. This was partly for the extra heat, but also as a noise canceller. It was our last night together until Christmas, and I wasn ’ t going to pass up… you know… 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; ‘ Can we leave the light on? ’ Josie asked. ‘ I want this to stick with me until Christmas. ’ 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; ‘ Sure, I ’ ll leave it on, ’ I replied, thankful that she ’ d said it so I didn ’ t have to. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I have to say, not one to kiss and tell, but going away sex is the best you can have. I ’ ll say no more on the matter, but that will takes some beating. 
 
 
 The following afternoon, we were at my dorm. Josie had driven me, and all my belongings, four hours just to get here. I can never thank her enough for doing that for me. It was about three at this point, and Josie was going to have to leave me before long so she could get home in time. We were having a last goodbye make out session when she suddenly pulled away, looking at me like a sad puppy. I went red looking at her, thinking how cute she was. ‘ Don ’ t forget to think about me, yeah? ’ 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; ‘ I won ’ t, Mark, are you crazy? How could I not? ’ she responded, wiping away a tear from her face. ‘ I… I have to go now ’ she said sullenly, looking at my door. She picked up her bag and slowly walked towards the door, obviously hesitant to leave. ‘ I won ’ t forget you; I ’ ll write you once a week ’ she said. And with that, she was gone. 
 
 
 Two weeks later, as promised, Josie had sent me two letters. Both of roughly the same content: a few paragraphs about what she ’ d been up to and how she missed me, accompanied by some photos which can only be described as NSFW. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; It was at this point I decided to try my hand at writing one back. English wasn ’ t my strong point, I was more a maths guy, but I loved this girl and I wanted her to know. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I started by trying to write like she did, but I just couldn ’ t get it right. After three or four attempts, i gave up, then forgot about writing to her. I can ’ t really be depended on to follow through, but I ’ ll get there after some procrastination. I ’ d have to, for I wanted Josie to know I ’ d go through Hell for her. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I did return to it the next day, and I decided to try my hand at a poem. It wasn ’ t very good. More a bouquet of clumsy words with a simple melody, but the heart was there. I started with a joke to let her know how nervous I was bout writing to her, by wishing her a happy Valentine ’ s. It was a really obscure joke, but I wasn ’ t going to scribble it out. I waffled my way through the next few stanzas and came up with a good finishing line: ‘ this world ’ s an ugly place, but you ’ re so beautiful to me ’. I put down my pen, satisfied at first, then, after reading it a second time, I held my head in my hands at how cringeworthy and disappointed in myself I was. I ’ m a little better at it now, but it still takes me time to write back. 
 
 
 Over the next few months, I missed quite a few lectures. The work load was killing me, and I needed some breaks. It wasn ’ t a great idea, paying all this tuition to go watch the girls play ‘ soccer ’, as it ’ s called here in America, but it was almost summer, and I was tired. 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; During these unscheduled free periods, I ’ d watch the game and think of Josie, how she ’ d meet me after class for a quick kiss before he next one, or how she used to put up with my friends when we were acting like asses. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Josie had kept her promise of sending me a letter every week. They seemed to be getting less enthusiastic, until eventually I got one I wasn ’ t expecting. She wrote to me, telling me not to write anymore, as she couldn ’ t handle the distance. I couldn ’ t believe it. Christmas together had been great, but now she was telling me she didn ’ t want to know me. Stapled to the back was a picture of me from my year six school picture from when I was in England. It was a terrible picture, but she had always hung it in her locker to cheer her up. I stared at it for a while, then crumpled it up in my fist. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I shut myself in my dorm room pretty much until the end of the year and thought back to my first letter, and how hard I had tried to get it right for her. I realised how right I was in my poem: this world is an ugly place.
