Hypothesis: I am in love with the center of the universe.

I have evidence to support this:

I. Your heart is a bruise filled with condensed light. Every wound you touch oozes poetry with a pulse and sometimes I can feel the light seeping in my arteries when your breath gets in my chest.

When asked if light travels as a particle or a wave, I tell them my blood pressure when I think of you.

II. The gravity of your heart is so great that they used to think the Sun orbits the Earth. I come to you so fast it must approach the speed of light; when we are separate, the ache of my chest points in your direction. 

III. I thought I was a poet until the light in your eyes started to flicker. When I was younger I was told that Heaven is filled with colors I cannot imagine, but God misplaced the light in your eyes and now I know I am an atheist.

IV. In grammar, we use a term known as the ‘infinitive.’ It is when an action is described as a noun rather than a verb.
To love;
To wander;
To walk away;
To wonder
Where the light has gone.

V. The way you look at her is this: a flickering streetlight on the road to home. The Universe is to start and to end with you, and though for lightyears we are to travel on the infinite unknown, forever, I am to yearn for the touch of your bones.

—  7-weeks//A Scientific Treatise on the Origins of Life and Death.