Desperately Petty

I'm so tired of thinking about you.
Utterly sick of it.
There's no doubt in my mind that you have not thought about me once.

But here I am every night,
With your hands still holding tight onto my throat.
Your fingerprints faded but never left.

I hate you more than my lungs crave air.
You are the beetles under my skin,
Always crawling just under the surface.

I loathe every thought I have,
Every fear that has a clear line to you.
I live to remember that which I am desperate to forget.