#loquina

“Trillions of years, and I was born just in time to love you,” Lorena says, giving in to Eduarda’s bottom lip, capturing it chastely between her own. “Oh, I could create a religion around it.” “I love you.” It’s all Eduarda can do to reply steadily, tears welling in her eyes. She’s glad Lorena already knows she’s a crybaby, or she’d be pouring cement overhead, encasing herself like a bomb shelter. “I love you so much. Nobody’s ever said anything so beautiful to me before.” “Well,” Lorena says, and kisses her again with a heavy-handed hint of possessiveness, “they weren’t built for it like I was.” This time, she embraces the poet’s meaning. Without genetics and biology, without gears and mad scientists - she stares into Eduarda’s dark brown eyes, wipes her tear tracks away with a thumb, and thinks that if she could spread her soul across a table as if performing an autopsy, she’d find the name Eduarda Fragoso tattooed across every inch.