my discount full-size mattress has traditionally been known
to comfortably accommodate a maximum party of 2—maybe—
on a cool night when the hot air trapped between my legs and
the old duvet isn’t so severe as to de-wrinkle the sheets
but this night, we bunked our bodies, stacked like buttered
toast on a diner plate and we were buttered up and toasted alright,
blue eyes was starving and green eyes must’ve murmured
that i tasted good at least a hundred times from in between
my thighs, and normally i’d prefer not to be presented like
a centerpiece but on this particular night, squeezing in
the bitch seat felt almost like being loved by both mom
and dad at the same time (an analogy disturbing to
anyone whose family made it through the 90’s unscathed)
all i know is i liked the integration of her soft and
his hard the way i like potato chips with turkey sandwiches
and those little bags of crackers that come with clam chowder
and i liked to like and be liked all at once, testing our limits
until the sun came up, all of us and green eyes said i was
different than she remembered she said i was uninhibited and
i said seven years at rock bottom will do that sort of thing
to a person, what’s your excuse? she pulled on her skirt and
shrugged, i always thought you were cute, all matter of fact
and i didn’t feel used, for once, i kind of took it in stride
as i selfishly memorized the curve of her hips in my mind
for later, rolled onto my side in an empty bed and closed my
eyes until i finally heard the front door close
and for the first time in a long while, i felt truly alive
or maybe it was all just a dream.

Tiffany-Amber Moton is a 24-year-old New Yorker with a penchant for writing love poetry on bar napkins and oversharing to strangers. After studying politics and writing at Pace University, she self-published her first book, A Lonely Trip Down the Rabbit Hole in late November. Tiffany hopes to spend her days writing poetry about difficult topics and sharing it with others for the rest of her life and plans to continue publishing until she finally runs out of things to say. (Never.)