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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