Disclaimer: I don't own these people (though I just realized there are no names in this… hope it's clear…)
Author's note: Spanish was my first language, but hasn't been my primary language since I was about three and it's definitely not my best language. And let's just say there are things you don't talk about when you're three… so I don't claim the Spanish here is all correct and I'll confess to drawing some heavy inspiration from Sandra Cisneros and Pablo Neruda (though only one image is actually stolen). (Translation at the end)
She tries to block them out of her mind, but sometimes she can't help it. Sometimes the wind tickles her ear and it feels like his breath. And she can hear him whispering
Mi princesa, mi preciosa
Just before his tongue would tease her ear lobes
Mi reina, mi vida
And she didn't speak the language, but she always thought the meanings were clear enough.
Bebo de los labios dulces, los vasos del pecho
A language with a rhythm that matched the motion of their bodies
Bésame querida, dime que me deseas como te deseo
As his fingers flitted over her body with the same skill with which his brush caressed the canvas
cuerpo claro, muslos de nacár…
And she felt like a work of art. Beautiful, admired, loved.
Te adoro, te quiero
And maybe if she'd paid more attention... Listened more closely… Maybe if she'd learned the language… Maybe she would have heard it when he lied.
Mi princesa, mi vida
And then there was the other one.
And she tries to forget him too, but sometime the stiff denim of her jeans chafes against her rough winter skin and it feels a little too much like his cheek.
The one who hardly spoke at all, but lied just as much. Whose body had a language all its own.
Every time his fingers dug into her flesh, every time his mouth moved over her breasts and she could have sworn it had said it wanted to please her… every time he'd been lying.
Every time he'd saved her life just so that he could destroy it again…
Every time their bodies tangled around each other in a way that sounded like he wanted her…
Every night on the roof under the stars that practically whispered forever…
That look in his eyes that he'd let her believe was love…
They'd all been lies, and somehow she'd missed it.
Somehow she hadn't heard them.
And so she tells herself, as though it will be comforting, that they can't hear her now.
Can't hear the lies she tells with each smile, each assurance that she'll be okay.
Every time she insists she hates him. Them. Whoever they are.
Every shot of whiskey stolen when no one's looking, just to take the edge off.
She might not be able to hear their lies, but she could lie with the best of them. So she tells herself she never loved them. After all, she can't ever tell when people are lying.
Translation:
Mi princesa, mi preciosa-My princess, my precious
Mi reina, mi vida-My queen, my life
Bebo de los labios dulces, los vasos del pecho-I drink from your sweet lips, the goblets of your breast
Bésame querida, dime que me deseas como te deseo-Kiss me beloved, tell me that you want me like I want you
cuerpo claro, muslos de nacár-Clear body, mother of pearl thighs
Te adoro, te quiero-I adore you, I love you
Mi princesa, mi vida-My princess, my life