Do not bullshit me. Do not lie.
Do not look me in the eye. Just go.
Save me your mealy-mouthed speeches.
And the farse of goodbye. Do not make a
scene.
Do not say you're sorry or that life
is what it is: that everything washes away.
That life and time can heal any wound.
I repeat, my love: be gone.
Take whatever you want of
what we once believed shared:
The books, the sandalwood sculptures,
The records, the portraits, the billiards.
Do not leave an address. Please:
My love, all I want is for you to fuck off.
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