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Stevie Ray
31/M/Netherlands    I am the clearest of skies. I am the calmest of blues - Hemlock Ernst
Genevieve
Just another woman who never grew out of her emo poetry phase. I highly recommend this lovely poet, she's a great writer and an even …
Evie
17/F/the nether    kinda hurt but its fine

Poems

Mitchell  Apr 2015
Untitled
Mitchell Apr 2015
Just tell me the truth, Evie said.
I closed my eyes and turned my head toward the window.
The brightness of the sun turned my black vision a warm orange-red.
Evie said something else but, I didn't catch it.
What? I asked.
Tell me the truth, she said again, more demanding.
The truth?
Yes. Heard of it?
Yeah, I nodded, debating whether I should start ******* with her or keep it serious. Keep it serious? I asked myself. But why?
But I hear it's a very rare thing. I took a sip of my beer and placed it gently back on its coaster.
I don't have to **** around with you anymore. Did you cheat on me or did you not?
I did.
Evie inhaled, exhaled, and then stood up.
Where are you going? I asked her. I didn't stand up because I was pretty sure she wouldn't slap me if I was sitting down. I didn't want to cause a scene. Ron's Diner was my favorite place for coffee in LA.
Where am I going? she sighed. Where the **** do you think I'm going?She took two dollars out of her Dolce Gabana wallet and flicked them on the table. They fluttered in the air for a moment then fell onto the table.
Language...I whispered, looking around the diner.
Ron wasn't there, but Wendy - his wife - was putting some bear claws on a large plastic platter by the register. She'd been giving us  the eye since we sat down. It seemed she could tell we were going to be trouble. Her rhinestone glasses glittered from the light coming in through the blinds. It was rush hour downtown. The car exhaust and the heat seemed to be pouring in from every crack in the building.
Sit down, I told Evie.
Why the hell should I?
You're not mad. I can tell. You don't even like me enough to really be mad at me. Sit down.
We've been dating six months you *******. When should I start getting the respect I know I deserve, Ave? In another six months?
Lower your voice, yeah? Sit down and let me order you some food. What do you want?
Evie bent down and looked at the menu. I relaxed and stopped worrying about a scene starting. She ran her finger down the appetizers and while I watched her do this, I remembered she never ordered appetizers in the six months I'd been taking her out, even when I was paying.
You looking at the appe...
Evie gripped the cup of ice water sitting on the edge of the table and threw it all - water and ice - in my face.
One more ****** ******* meal with you at this ****** ******* diner and I'd put a bullet up my ****** and pull the ******* TRIGGER!
Evie whipped the empty plastic cup onto the floor. It skipped, jumped, and slid all the way to the front door. Just as it was about to hit the door, Ron walked in. The cup slid right between his legs and out onto the sidewalk.
What the hell...? Ron said trailing off. He looked over his shoulder at the cup now in the middle of the street then at Wendy.
She shook her head and pointed at me. Evie was already out the door, brushing violently past Ron.
Ave! Ron shouted, Ave, what the hell is going on here?
Ah, I sighed sitting back down, Just another one of my mistakes.
Go get my ******* cup! It's in the middle of the street!
I walked down the aisle, passing hunched over regulars mumbling nonsensical judgments while sipping on their coffee, cream and Splenda, buttered toast, biscuits and gravy, but slowed down when I tried to get around Ron. Wendy was standing cross-armed standing over the register. I looked over at her and stifled a laugh. Her glasses made her eyes appear three sizes too big. She was a real life cartoon character. I was about to run out into the middle of the street when a semi ran over the plastic cup. It exploded underneath the weight of the tire and millions of shards flew everywhere.
*******! Ron screamed from the door of his diner, You owe me a ******* new plastic cup! He was pointing his big hand at me. It was shaking.
I threw up my hands standing in the middle of the sidewalk. How much you want for it, Ron? How much does a plastic cup ******* cost?
Ron thought about it for moment and then said, Five. Five bucks for the cup and the trouble.
Fine, I said.
I walked back inside, finished my coffee, had another one, and then paid my tab with five extra on top. I'd only been in LA a year and this kind of **** was already pretty regular.