Itchy

My fingers dig into my arm for the millionth time tonight,
And the thought of you is running me into the ground...
I think of everything we were and everything we could have been
But it doesn't always hurt, it doesn't even sting.
I still get itchy sometimes when I think of you
Since you were the drug in my veins, the salt in my wounds
And I wonder sometimes, whenever I think of you,
If your arm itches for me like it sometimes used to.