Don't bullshit me. Don't make things up.
Don't look me in the eyes. Just leave.
Spare me of your flowery speeches
and your fake goodbyes. Don't make a scene.
Don't say you´re sorry or that sometimes
life is this way: that everything is forgotten;
that the world and time cure any wound.
I repeat, my love: go away.
And take as much as you want of all
we once thought of sharing:
the books. the wooden sculptures,
the discs, the portraits, the pool table.
Don't leave any addresses. Please:
I want you to fuck of, my love.
Diogo Moreira
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