Bittersour

You were like an egg. But you were hard to crack.

You're yolk was the purest I'd ever seen and it ran tirelessly and endlessly, for miles and miles.

I wanted a taste.

So I allowed my tounge to absorb you, let you seep through the most resilient part of my being. Thinking you'd leave me bittersweet.

My toungue furiously returned to it's confinement.

Previously, I always thought a person can only leave you bittersweet. But you left a bad taste in my mouth. You were bittersour.

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