With Molotovs in my fingers I text you it's over

With Molotovs in my fingers I text you it’s over

You will no longer fuck me in the dim lights of your room

Somewhere between the dirty dishes and the forgotten laundry

Where it smells like you never opened the windows

Never dusted

Never cleaned the cat’s litter box

Never swept

And you never even really showered for me

And I swear I’ve seen stains on your boxers

And I don’t know what sort of nasty bitches you brought there

But they stole the earrings I left

My grandma’s earrings, gold earrings of seconds before she died

Or maybe you sold them 

For a lucky day at the bets or your last day of rent

You never even told me I was pretty

That you liked my hair that you loved my perfume

Or the shape of a body I’ve battled

Yes, it is true that sometimes you whispered I looked nice

And all those times I said sorry what

And asked you to repeat

Because I wanted to hear it again

Or wanted you to add more

But you still never would

You would tell me don’t worry

You would say never mind

Or nothing or whatever or fine

And then you’d go on and just fuck me

As if I never existed

As if I were air

Half a glass of water

A little spark

A post-it note

Something to just want

To just find

To always have

To rely on

To lay on

To sleep on

To shout at

To stare at

To strangle

To bruise

To damage

To hurt

To keep

To fight

To throw away

To take back

To set on fire

To kiss

To hurt