I have no nipples, just two light pink scars
That run across the length of my new breasts.
Maybe I should get tattoos of pink stars?
On silicon clouds those novas would rest.
If my whole body is the Milky Way,
That barred, spiral galaxy high above,
Then my new celestial nips, I say,
Will shine like beacons of heavenly love.
Named because it resembles creamy milk,
A substance my barren body won’t make,
The Via Lactea seems smooth like silk.
My heart is the sun, and sometimes it aches.
I’m just one of billions of galaxies.
Floating in space seeking my destiny.