You're not in my head anymore.

I used to write your name in the margins of my notebook; the thought of you distracting me from my original task. I'd curl and twist the letters into a grand signature when you consumed my brain to the point of non-functioning return. Then the letters that conjured your label shrank, becoming tiny and squeezed, until they were gone - just like the thought of you. Now I doodle, putting hearts and stars and random sayings in the place where your name used to go.