Mattress on the floor

I remember how good it felt to wake up alone.

To drive in my own car and answer my own phone.

Ramen noodle soups and sandwiches.

My youth was my riches.

Transferring calls to pay my rent.

Buying tequila and cigarettes

with the rest of my check.

Those Saturday nights I’ll never forget.

Kissing strangers and breaking hearts.

Dancing all night in the dark.

Driving to work from the club.

Going to bed when the sun came up.

Corsets, red lip stick and 6 inch high heels.

My knees on the steering wheel.

Getting out of tickets with my sex appeal.

The world was mine as it so often revealed.

Swinging on swings at 5am.

Talking all night with friends.

My heart & bank account over drawn.

“Do I have a date with Alex tonight or was it John?”

Playing hooky to soak up some sun.

Bikinis, volley balls and water guns.

Cheers to the time when less was more.

When I had weed stashed in my drawer.

When there was nothing to live for.

When it was just me, my dog and my mattress on the floor.

-Erika Fuego