There was something about her
that stilled a room,
that stopped them dead in their tracks
and pulled them into the eye of her storm,
confused them
so their focus landed on sweaters and hairstyles;
and they never put it together,
never pieced you into her puzzle
and ever acknowledged
that the way she wore you,
the way she draped your gaze across her chest,
proud, like quiet couture,
was what made her startling to watch.