The lights are low and the spotlight finds you, sliding across that stage like it was made for your body, every curve a melody, every move a sin I can’t resist.

You climb the pole with fire in your eyes, heels clicking against the rhythm, skin glistening under neon glow, and when you spin down slow, the whole room forgets how to breathe.

Dollar bills float like confetti but you don’t even see them—

you’re in control, the crowd is yours, and I’m just another fool caught in your orbit, praying you never stop.

The way you roll your hips feels like gravity’s breaking rules, the way you touch the floor feels like worship, and the way you bite your lip before you rise again has me weak in my seat.

It’s more than lust—

it’s an art, a dangerous performance painted in sweat and shadows, and though the world screams for more, I swear you’re only dancing for me.

On that pole you’re a goddess, golden, untouchable, and every spin, every drop, every flicker of your eyes drags me deeper into a place I can’t escape.

You’re the storm and the silence, the fire and the glow, and I’d give anything to stay in this moment, watching you rule the night, losing myself piece by piece in the way you move.