glory glory glory

this is cursed.

there’s no gentleness in his smile. gums too pink, teeth too white. a snake’s grin, ravenous and wicked. long shadows stretched across cobbled stones, hazed at the edges and growing faint in the twilight hours. these moments, fragile and quiet, sat between the evening commute and the consequential night life. too early for thieves, too late for the common workman. his startling red collar stood with the rigid attention of a soldier, bound tight at the throat and the crooked adam’s apple that bobbed when he spoke. ❛ — i hope it was worth it. ❜ a voice raspy from exhausted decades of smoke and alcohol, both abuses that still permeated the air around his words.