You will not know fire, until you feel your skin burn from where my teeth have been, like lighting a match for the sole purpose of burning the matchbox. You wouldn’t know indecency, until you taste it on my tongue as it riots in your mouth. You will not know violence, until you feel the tightness of my grip, as if rebelling against the space your matter occupies. You will not know silence, until you feel a foul tightness in a scream that clings to your throat as I devour it. You will not know of power, until I take it from you, as you lie straddled under me, helpless, looking up. You will not know how it is to be truly naked, until all of the secrets of your body, all of its corners, angles, elevations, and chasms, the whole terrain of you, I have torched with my eyes. I will destroy you, build you, and destroy you again, then will you know what it is to desire.