this is (not) about love

my mind tries
to erase you.
my brain, in desperate and
stupid attempts,
begins to 
furiously
scrub your name
out of my heart
like a rubber eraser.
your poisonous ink
taunts me
and i rub harder-
smudging,
staining,
smearing-
until my heart
is a black, inked mess.

i’d slit my throat
to bleed you out,
if only your name
were not interchangeable 
with my life itself.