Dear guy who’s a sweetheart,

The last time you called me a star, all I could think of was, that I’m around 2 billion years old, and so repulsive that I burn anything that comes near me.

The last time you said I was ‘the one’,by mind wandered off to rebuke your statement with probability and statistics.

The last time you called my hands soft, I wanted to tell you it’s cause the textures vary with what we apply on them.

The last time you said I smelt nice, I could go on about the chemicals that made it possible.

The last time you said I was beautiful, I would tell you it’s genes.

The last time you said I meant the world to you, all I could think of is that it’s going to come to an end cause of climate change.

I’m sorry for ruining all those moments, just no (know) that I love you to infinity and beyond.

(Yes, yes it’s not defined and there are types of infinities)

With sincere apologies

~A woman of science.