Poem for Jessie

April has brought a lot of really fun and awesome things into my life, but it has also brought some terrible ones. Well, one terrible one in particular, and that is the death of a good friend of ours, Jessie. We met Jessie about a year ago when our friend Emily started dating her. The two of them seemed perfect for each other, which I know is cliché to say, but it was the absolute truth in their case. They were both so happy, so in love, and when they asked us to be in their wedding this coming May, we were overjoyed. But then real life came in to remind us all that things aren't always so perfect. Things are often difficult. Things are often sad.

Jessie passed away to Gastric Cancer on April 3, 2014. I remember her laughter and her spontaneity the most. And boy, could that girl dance. Emily would text me almost every other weekend: "What are you boys doing? Let's go clubbing!" And we'd go out and Jessie was always the life of the party. I remember whenever "We Can't Stop" by Miley Cyrus came on she would get especially excited. People always told Jessie that she reminded them of Miley. A far more beautiful Miley in my opinion. The song still makes me think of her every time I hear it.

This one's for you, Jessie.

Stolen

The club lights

flutter their aroused,

anxious butterflies;

their sweaty, shining

palms leave stolen

kisses of every hue

on your dancing body,

blushing timidly

as they do, but only

for a moment.

Only on their turn.

For who could hope

to keep you?

You, an angelic

trickster, taking

silky drags from your

e-cig, running long,

slender fingers through

stylish, cropped hair,

blowing puffs

of hefty exuberance

into the air with every

laugh.

The lights have found

new you to kiss… your musical

eyes, your glittery teeth.

You smile and sing along,

moving your body to the beat.

We can’t stop

and we won’t stop.

Constantly in motion,

moving and grooving

—a solar system

in tight, ripped jeans

and boots.  Feathers

dangle from your earlobes.

You ignite the night

with the lighter that

is you.  Hot and bright.

The club’s lesser lights

enjoy the chase, reaching

for you always but only

catching smoke.