Heart on sleeve

This skin bruises easily; this skin takes tracks at a glance.
Tears from the eyes come with every imagined tearing of flesh,
Of heart —

Broken dreams manifest as broken capillaries
That start first as a sharp strike,
Noted or not (results are the same),
Then with purple or sub-dermal and surprising pain.

Later the regal turns to rotted black, with
Gruesome dead yellow-green ending it.
Remember the table-corner my thigh struck
Today? He in the room did not.

Another less visible mark hovers above.