Down on the corner of 5th and Ivy, and just when I think I couldn’t get anymore cliché= I go and write a line like that. But that’s how it started, on the corner with a girl and nothing to say but the same old thing. All my words are stuck and suspended in space. Everything begins to sound the same making me out to be so lame. If I could talk like the way the ink flowed from my pen I’d be Mr.Shakespear making everything quiver with the touch of my tongue. But I remembered through a blacked out haze I had once seen her in the corner, at the party, sipping life through those red plastic cups. And it wasn’t that I liked her, its just that she was a flashback, taking me all the way back to high school looking like the girl who killed me and just left the remains on the floor. How’s that saying go? The one about not judging a book by it’s cover, well I messed up and wanted to hate you from the first time I saw you. If you only knew you were the person I loved to hate, but I’m stuck still on saying “hello.” Who knew my new worst enemy would work at Starbucks. I’ll take a tall latte, make it a short mocha, screw that -just anything you got- make it Extra hot - and I’m sorry when I spill it all over your apron. This mind game I play in my head- replaying each scene with such precision- your apron was green, but I burnt holes through it down to your bones. And don’t forget my eyes when we say goodbye.