The night exhales
loud, ***** coated breath and
on an inhale pulls me like
the tug of a cigarette filter
through flashing neons
pressed against a navy blue
ceiling
floor
wall and
button up shirt
of a Welsh boy
named Adam, who offers
a rib disguised as a dance and
out on Wind Street I stumble
the Eve of Swansea
with my American accent
the apple already tucked in my throat
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
The night exhales
loud, ***** coated breath and
on an inhale pulls me like
the tug of a cigarette filter
through flashing neons
pressed against a navy blue
ceiling
floor
wall and
button up shirt
of a Welsh boy
named Adam, who offers
a rib disguised as a dance and
out on Wind Street I stumble
the Eve of Swansea
with my American accent
the apple already tucked in my throat
Request permission to use this poem