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I'm certain you think I don't know.
well, I do.
and so should you
but you don't.
you don't know that I know
and I guess it's ok.
it would be too much for you anyway.

'cause if you knew that I knew
you would have to admit,
no, not to me,
but to yourself,
that you're living a lie
and that would be too much for you.

perhaps I'm the one to blame
for I know
yet don't tell
that you're living a lie.
I know you don't care
or care way too much
for me
for us
and for all that's not.

I'm not saying it hurts
'cause it hurts way too much
and I'm past that point by now.
it's just sad,
you know,
well, maybe you don't,
that all I am and ever was
is a 6 o'clock girl.

there, I said it at last,
yet you still don't believe
what I was,
what I am to you
I'm your 6 o'clock girl.
I don't mind anymore.
I just wish you'd see
so I would live in a dream
not you.
©2006-2009 ~desipio
:icondesipio:

Author's Comments

I've been experimenting with some new genres lately and this is one (of the few) that could survive the light of day. Healthy critiscism is welcome.

The story is of a girl who suddenly understands that he doesn't love her anymore and, to make things worse, probably never did. These are her dreams and whispers.

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:iconrmy:
Criticism never was my thing, but for what it's worth, I found it very moving. Truely. The first lines were deceptive for me because I didn't take it seriously yet, reminding me more of the good old "I know that you know that I know that you know" thread of thought. But this was great because thanks to that I was able to go with the general flow of the poem more easily. Instead of forcing myself instantly into a certain state of mind which the idea of the poem requires, you let me descend into it smoothly and comfortably, which in turn, made it that much more easier for me to follow and get what you mean.
Sorry, though, for not being able to rip it into bloody fleshy pieces with my knife of criticism. Maybe next time.

And also, while I'm here, I'd say that the absolute climax and the best part has to be the last 5 lines of the fourth verse. Frankly, it alone could be enough. Not meaning to belittle the rest, of course.
:icondesipio:
I am getting a little rusty on the edges, I know.

--
I don't give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way. - Mark Twain
:iconrmy:
I wouldn't say that, really. And even if I did, it would be stupid of me to draw any serious conclusions based on one poem. Haven't seen any of your other new stuff. *hint-hint* Making a little come-back? Or should I say - make a little come-back!
:icondesipio:
Hah!

*being mysterious*

--
I don't give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way. - Mark Twain
:iconrmy:
I'm sorry, you've run fresh out of mysterious. Your move, Baldrick =]

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December 2, 2006
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