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Answering to God

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The Marlboro man’s smoke, a wistful, wandering sigh
drifted between us, a loose noose, ghostly and high,
a reminder of moments, lost in time’s dark haze,
with echoes of laughter, tears, and whispered ways.
With the sum of all fears, laid bare in the light,
we stood, two strangers, bound by the night,
as ashes burned the flame of regrets left unsaid,
and the smoke curled upward, like prayers for the dead,
answering to God.

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