tales of brave.

i never quite grew into myelf until i met adler. and it might have actually been seconds before but i don’t really remember much about last november except that it hadn’t really started to snow yet and that the most charming thing about him were his coattails and how they were just long enough for me to ride but short enough to not be concerned.
and actually, if we want to get to the privy and point,
i hadn’t really known myself, my shelves, until i had him inside.
and i was skiing ontop of his listless, thoughtful thighs,
until i rode his coattails dry,
or wet (depending on who you asked)
and until my lips, calves, sides
were moist with his, cracked, chipped
(as they usually were)
and how they usually came
(and went)
and how his coattails did the same.
and i had actually never known myself
until the retrospect
and my protruding hips
left me giving my own coattails
a tug and a twist
(without the likes of his to keep me behind)