When love bounces up to you like a little Lop rabbit, it greets you by nibbling on your toes. With its incisors, dull from years of munching on greens, you feel the outermost layer of your epidermis gently grazed on. It almost tingles in a way; it’s not unpleasant like a chomp. The tickle makes you squirm and wriggle, yet you linger in place, keeping your feet in reach of the rabbit. The nibbles seem harmless enough at first, until suddenly that miniature mammal has gulped down your legs. Hips, waist, diaphragm, chest, neck, earlobes, forehead - it’s all been consumed by the once benign bunny. Curiously, the digestive system’s journey is enjoyable; the loss of control is smothered as soon as its saliva wets your lips. The muscular rings of the esophagus guide you down towards the stomach, where the warmth bathes you and dissolves your worries away. The inner lining of the intestines, laced with soft fields of villi, stroke you as you float in its fluid current. Nothing has ever generated the same sensation as this pulsing peristalsis, waves of pleasure and contentment. All at once, you are on the ground in a heap, curled into the shape of rejection. Although you may try to crawl back inside the rabbit, it bounds away just as quickly as it came. Sure, you may look down and see the teeth marks on the tips of your toes every now and then, but the tranquil interior of the rabbit remains a memory. Its bliss haunts you like heroin, but all there is to do is wait for the bunny to pop up from its burrow again. Don’t let the scars from the end of first journey scare you away when that pecking, nibbling affection returns.