Tall, slender and long. Memories etched onto your skin, like tattoos; scarred into your existence. We work together in harmony, carrying you through pain, pleasure and triumph. We are big, bowed, thin and short. A gateway to a woman’s sexuality, the entrance to her femininity, the spread of toxic masculinity. The insurance for a man’s livelihood, enough to cause grown men to roll around writhing in pain from a mere kick. The thing that makes frequent contact with your coffee table therefore resulting in swearing and temper tantrums.

We are the largest bone in your body, we put the kick/flip in boxing and give power to your punches. That aching feeling after your morning run, the untimely cramp during intercourse and the reason your crush prefers your friend. A drag queens’ weapon, an actor’s favoured phrase. From Basic Instinct to The Graduate, we are a femme fatale fan favourite.

The sprinters best friend, a dancer’s canvas, a source of protein. An argument without legitimacy, your friendly neighbourhood spider, that joke you pulled on your best friend, the one that you thought was hilarious and she didn’t quite find funny. Your favourite thing to stroke at night, we know about your fetish. The metaphor used to describe your childhood fleeing from home. We are coming to the end; I am at the end. I am the reason you are alive today.