Summer nights spent in kisses and embraces. Each summer different than the last, each kiss sweeter. The summer when I was 16. Monumental. Now I'm 17, and in love yet again. It's different, because he isn't mine, but in mind he is not hers either. I spend days thinking of him, building feelings throughout the day that explode into ****** nights. And I know one day it'll end. Summer love never extends or it shouldn't. When I was 16 it extended. And I was, or at least I thought, in love and miserable. Confined. But summer brings new found joy along with sunlight, freedom for most.The nights bring mystery and stars. And in my case the nights bring me love.