Jun 2013
Reckless and unsure,
She sits with her Marlboro Lights;
Smoke cloaks her face
and she takes her drags faster than Gordon's race.
"I smoke to die," she says,
And he looks on in perpetual infatuation,
Looking and longing,
twisted fantasizing of the girl he'll never really have.
And he feels her, her warmth,
Though layers upon layers all block her touch.
It isn't enough that his eyes fill with lust at the mention of her name.
Alaska Young, and the fire in his chest flames and flames;
And suddenly she's gone,
Straight and fast, right out of the labyrinth,
One drunken night gone awry.
And poor old Pudge with no last words to get him by.
She sits with her Marlboro Lights;
Smoke cloaks her face
and she takes her drags faster than Gordon's race.
"I smoke to die," she says,
And he looks on in perpetual infatuation,
Looking and longing,
twisted fantasizing of the girl he'll never really have.
And he feels her, her warmth,
Though layers upon layers all block her touch.
It isn't enough that his eyes fill with lust at the mention of her name.
Alaska Young, and the fire in his chest flames and flames;
And suddenly she's gone,
Straight and fast, right out of the labyrinth,
One drunken night gone awry.
And poor old Pudge with no last words to get him by.
I finished John Green's Looking For Alaska on an eight hour drive to San Diego. Three of those hours were spent with me wiping at tears while trying to keep my whimpers on low. John Green, I hate him but I love him and he may or may not have ruined and enlightened my life all at once. This isn't the best I've done, by any means. I'm a little more than a little blocked, but I'm trying.
