Beneath the skin.

What if every time we fell in love
it marked out bodies?
How long would our skin be painted
Until nothing was left to wear?
And what would happen then?
Would we run out of capacity to love?
What if it marked us each time love hurt us?
Is there a limit?
Could you just stop being hurt,
Or would the pictures overlap?
What would the pictures be?
A heart, cliche
A baseball
A dog
Some mountains
Sugar
Silly silly things.
Would you remember each of them?
The story behind them?
Should you?
How much is too much?
How far is too far?
Maybe we're marked beneath the skin.
I think there's more room there anyway.