songs we sang on sundays

summer

a melancholy piece about my least favorite season. accepting constructive criticisms :)

---------------------------------------------

 summer

It is summer and everything seems possible.

I am invincible, not immortal.

I am a teen.

Life is apparently short and the heat of June is long.

July is a month for kisses and t-shirts thrown across the room.

For windows down, singing the most kitsch songs we know.

For skinny dipping in the lake.

For love and day trips to hippie towns.

For yelling about your youth until your throat burns.

For thinking about all these things.

For doing none of them.

For sitting in your bed and crying.

For wanting to live so badly it makes you want to die.