Monday, April 14, 2014

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.


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

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.

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