Clementine Street

A few times a day, I find myself back in that house

Where you stole everything from me; Where I lost myself

I knocked on the front door of the lion’s den

If only I could tell myself, “Please. Don’t go in.”

I left my innocence in the pile of clothes on your floor

It was there I learned I am just a girl; I am just your w***e

Shaking hands and fleeting feet

I gave you all of me, that night on Clementine Street.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

A sad write. Reflecting back on a place of pain often happens with traumatic experiences. I hope you can eventually find some healing and move on. You have conveyed the experience and emotions well here.

Chris

[Summer Lynn]

Thank you, Chris.

[willweb]

Sad but so wonderfully written. This reads like song, albeit not a happy one, but still very melodic, songlike.

[Summer Lynn]

Thank you, Will. I appreciate your feedback.

[Matthew Kult]

You worked around the word with great detail and words. You never had to say the word but the way you wrote it placed me there with you.

Great read.

With love,

Matthew

[Summer Lynn]

Thank you, Matthew.

[emmajoygreen]

A tragedy set in eight lines but, surely - would be remembered for a long, long time - if not forever. Fine but raw writing, Summer Lynn. Your name deserves a far, far brighter memory.

[Summer Lynn]

Thank you, Emma.