I really don't know

I don't know what this summer will hold. I'm hoping to avoid crying all night and staggering the quiet, dark streets with headphones blasted, drowning out my sorrow. All I want is to lay in our bed, our bodies wrapped up, untangle me. Feel me. So tired of your fucking anger. It drains me. I want to commit to my skin, covering it with things that perhaps will only be a memory, a different time and a better place. A happy place. I want to fuck you outside, please make me feel young and careless again.