It was an after-hours dive
Not your typical pick-up joint
The air wreaking with sweat
More men than women
All hard hats and tool belt's
And T-shirts filled with raging muscles
It was a place for eyes
Their eyes and mine
Soon only your eyes
In my eyes
A mingling of deep brown & golden green
Radiating a hidden heat
Through dilated pupils
Soon smoldering
Overwhelming our senses
With needs calling to be met
Just outside the back exit door
In an alley
Against a brick wall of graffiti
Lust reared it's head
And had it's way
A volcano of repressed instincts blew
The molten lava - it still flows today
By, Theodora Onken
January 14, 2016
1: 21 A.M. Central Time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem