When I climbed into his bed, all of my joints popped simultaneously
(he said it was the loneliest, prettiest song he'd ever heard, and I told him the orchestra was just tired, but that's another story for another poem),
my hollow bones trembles, pressurized into diamonds.

Every particle of our beings is recycled stardust,
and astrologers recorded our flesh as a newly discovered zodiac sign.
I always write about constellations because somehow humans have found a way to connect giant ***** of fire that are literally galaxies away from each other and create art.

*That should tell you everything you need to know about mankind.