By Cecile Usdin

When she was younger she giggled a lot

She wore her hair in two poofs

And we laughed at ourselves

We debated purple leotards and Swarovski crystals

We complained about practices

And ate ice cream out of coconut shells

Her room was purple

Her eyes so jet black

It looked as if she had no pupils

My mom liked her

I liked her

But now she doesn't giggle

She is bold but dead

She still gave me her number 

that night on Amelia St.

Told me to call if I needed 

anything

I wish we were still like the little girls

With hair gel and bright red lipstick

I don’t envy their life

Because i know it can’t last

Dying is part of life

And we are in hospice

But I envy how I knew her then

The time we spent together

Being born side by side

But birth is just that

Birth

Growing is what defines us

And we grow the most on our death

If only our deathbeds could collide