tatiana de la tierra

she never told me she loved me.  she ate my lipstick like it was for her.  she used a certain tone in her voice like it was for me.  she picked me up and took me with her, brought me back and stayed with me.

the telephone was our heart line.  she phoned me at any moment for no reason if only to show me that she would phone me at any moment for no reason.  she phoned me in the winter when she wanted a warm bed and a hot woman.  she phoned me in the summer when the heat was just right.  she phoned me at work to be close to me.  she phoned me at home to seduce me.  she took all my calls, returned all my messages, and left on my answering machine words mouthed for me.

she brought me flowers.  she opened doors for me.  she tucked me and my wavy skirts into her red car, and she closed the same doors that she opened.  she perused my perfumed places and encouraged a strut.  she pressed my face into her during slow songs and I visited there with no intention of leaving.  she always seemed to know what I wanted.  she didn’t always give it to me, but she knew.

the bed was a stage for our drama and the cause of our intimacy.  she set the rules and I set the lighting.  she whispered vulgarities and I became vulgar.  she started and I couldn’t stop.  she made me do things she’d seen in movies and I responded as if in those movies.  I made her do things I’d read in magazines and we did them in a glossy centerfold.  I oozed with drama and she licked me up.  our names were mantras.  our mouths were marbles rolling all over the place.  I slept nestled in a nook she reserved for me.  I became a piece of gum beside her.

she never told me she loved me.  she never told me she loved me.  she never told me she loved me.  she never told me she loved me.  she never told me.

Originally published:
de la tierra, tatiana. “Never.”  Queer View Mirror:  Lesbian and Gay Short Fiction.  Ed. Karen X. Tulchinsky and James Johnstone.  Vancouver:  Arsenal Pulp.  1996:  80.