Her name was Clementine.



Her gaze enthralling, her scent intoxicating.

She smelled midsummer dusk and faint citrus.

Was it...lemon? Lime?



She was far out of my league.

When I spoke to her, my tongue tied, twisted.

Doubts in my head -- an incessant whine.



Still, she said yes.

Dinner, desert, and a candlelit nightcap.

That evening left no remnant wine.



Still, I wasn't enough.

She was a force frenetic, her personality an incandescent shine.

Our time together burnt bright and hot.

Then -- inescapably -- it ended.


She was never mine.