Even back in high school, she would always be in awe of those boys bruised from after-school fights; the ones who were always failing in subjects and dropping out of school. Once, her body trembled in the mere thought of being touched by this boy whom she saw brought to the guidance counselor. The boy radiated with anger for a bloodied peer who told of their break in of the faculty office for answer keys to the 4th periodical exam. She remembered how, before being expelled, he let his warm wet tongue explore her flesh at the back of the THE room. She felt herself unravel as the tongue slid itself from her navel down to her vulva and found its way into her moist inner flesh. It was then that she felt her skin crawl in all directions across the ground, burying its roots deep, nourishing from all the hidden minerals. She felt herself grow wings that spread into space, reaching the stars which scorched her feathers. She felt her head exploding into supernovas, creating black holes that devoured all celestial bodies.
In college, she broke up with a guy who always made school on time. He would only excuse himself from class to address student council matters. He promised her a ring and a house. He promised her himself. But she would have none of it. She wanted brutish hands making their mark on her smoothness. She wanted the intensity of skin against skin, of hard muscles tensing in anticipation of domination. She wanted the warm and wet tongue. But with this boy, this uneventful, safe boy, there was no fire. She longed for the earth. For the firmament. But there was only a calm that felt like an endless pit of nothing.
Now, after the years had robbed her of her youth, she tries to endure the prying eyes of policemen behind their wooden desks. She wipes the tears off her bruised eyes as she reports her husband who came home the night before in a bad mood.