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Walking Dead
She puts
a lighter to her
cheap cigarette
She is alone again.
She traces her fingers over the cold
stone.
She walks among the d e a d
Walks like she belongs with them
Sometimes I worry that she will
Be in their place.
Too.
Soon.
Then, I will be there
In the g
r
a
v
e
y
a
r
d Running my fingers over her
COLD STONE
The smell of her cheap cigarettes
still
in
the
air
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