The Scientific Method Poem

The morning after I saw you
My heart is iron nestled between my lungs
Rusting but still beating despite how fast
Salt can corrode these hard things.
Methodically, I’ve collected the times I would be crying
Inside my chest; it gets heavy.
I know a lot of things, and and when I was fourteen
Assembling metals on a display board for the science fair,
I was unaware that the invisible measures
Of myself could ever matter: the quantity of your affections
For me. The total mass of my worth, gram by gram pulled off
Me and lost in the white sheets of your bed.
I know a lot of things, except for what matters.
Nobody can see the gravity pushing us down,
So I write poems with my eyes closed.