His smile was composed of light,
innocence, okay, maybe not,
the beginnings of guile, perhaps,
bright-white, youthful teeth,
lips yet to form big, broken words of hate
but, made clear, sadly experienced
in sounds from a suffering background.
Anyone would have engaged with him,
signed a contract in blood and semen,
a full, weighty heart put down as bond.
His smile: optimism, faith, hope of love.
A photo in the head is all that remains,
the ghostly inside a brain cell, buzzing.