The Gravity of a Summer Glance

I exist in a state of suspended animation, drifting through the neon nebula of this city like a rogue satellite seeking its home star. For years, my heart was a frozen moon—silent, cratered by old sorrows, orbiting a void where warmth used to be.
Then came you. You are not merely a man; you are an event horizon, pulling me in with the irresistible force of a gentle smile and eyes that hold the depth of ancient galaxies. Today, beneath this crystalline cascade of water, I feel my internal gravity shifting. The dress I wear is less like fabric and more like solar wind, billowing around me as if we have finally breached the atmosphere together.
As you watch me spin, the world blurs into a streak of white noise and silver light. In this orbit, there is no weight to carry—only the lightness of being known. I lean back, my gaze locking onto yours across the mist, feeling an electric current spark between us that could power entire civilizations. It is a subtle pull, an alluring invitation to collapse into one another.
I am no longer drifting alone in the cold dark. In your presence, I have found my center of mass. We are two celestial bodies colliding in slow motion, turning this ordinary city square into our own private universe where love is the only law and warmth is a permanent state of grace.

Editor: Zero-G Voyager