Resting blindly with smoke staining his teeth, a white flag stuffed in his jeans' back pocket. a tongue tied, trapped by the words underneath. He holds tightly to a rusted locket.
Placing it nestled closely to his chest. He smiles for life. It's truly his best. He smiles for love. He shall hold it yet. He smiles for light. He will not forget.
this was a passive one written in a parking lot waiting to give a present to a person