This Summer

This summer was suppose to be about us.
You and me against the world.
Not spending weeks apart
to see each other once and leave again.

A summer full of late nights walking under the stars.
Of soaking up the sun while we just drove around.
Of rendezvous to the library, sneaking kisses between shelves.
Of going to the pool, splashing each other till we're both soaked.

Not a summer full of late nights crying because you aren't there.
Of driving with no destination because there's no way to reach you.
Of reading books with happy endings, when you don't have one.
Of sitting at home, alone, thinking about all the fun we could've had.

I want a summer filled with no regrets.
One filled with so much laughter all the bad disappears.

But the summer I'm left with, isn't the same as what I want.
Not even close.