ollie; d7 [cb] fin

Nimble fingers, glass bones and a sly smile, they don't catch me -- yet.

It used to be amazing, the treasures you could find in a man's pocket. Eminence dressed in finery so thick you can't see their skin, my fingers always tangled themselves with valuables; from watches to peals to wallets with family pictures buried beneath the cash. I always left them in the dust, that way my heart never gets crushed beneath the weight of paper.

Pick pocketing's second nature, been doing it since I was seven and scared. Still doing it now that I'm nineteen and smitten. It's funny, how eager life is to transform from something wonderful (warm bed and happy parents) to something grotesque (orphaned and stealing). Boss never hesitated to leave a bruise on my cheek when I stepped out of line.

From wonderful to grotesque; everything mutates back to salvation when Silver took a knife and opened his skin to speak for his sins. For every bruise he left on our skin, every tear he spilled from our eyes -- I found salvation in blood spatter.

Nineteen and smitten, kicking dirt across the ground and blushing when I get come with stolen goods. I'm just a girl with a glass heart and a stolen watch that tells me the time we share is a luxury.

It doesn't stop ticking -- yet.

[dars]