There was a gravity deep behind her eyes.
He could see it when he looked close enough,
And he would often look close enough.
It pulled at him,
Even when he would turn away;
As he would cross the room,
Or the city.
It would orient him
Like a needle on some celestial instrument,
Drawing him constantly to something truer than North.
Some days,
When he was feeling whimsical,
Walking home from work
He would close his eyes,
Turn himself about like a dervish
In the midst of his own private worship,
And let the pull of her lead him blindly home.
There were other perks to her effect on him,
Like the riptide of her smile,
The undertow constantly pulling his lips
To hers.