Twenty-three

I counted them.
I officially have twenty-three mosquito bites.
I have marked each one with a sharpie
so as to strut around, showing my agony off to everyone.

If I wanted to make a cheesy analogy,
as per my style apparently,
I might compare these mosquito bites to my view on love.
They're itchy,
but when I scratch them they only itch more.
If I scratch the itch too much, then I end up bleeding.
And I love to show off the wounds.
To point at them and say:
'Look! Proof of how tough I am!'
And proof that I am wanted by many.

But I don't feel like making that cheesy analogy.
So I won't.