Departure



It’s a measured death
An unhurried song
A slow and slower mood
It smells of burnt skin
Of burnt wood

The chord of my guitar
Lie on my forearm
Like charms
And I’m almost there
And the sound is constant

How I suck your breath
Draining your life
I’m almost there
Putting you to sleep
Like how you did me

-Pennington

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4 thoughts on “Departure

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