Bitter To Swallow.

hes a different breed. further from anything ive liked before. different crowds, styles, ideals. he's asked me before, about french class, about libraries. i nod my head. playing it cool? i ask myself doubtfully. i don't know where my words went, my tongue couldnt answer if it tried. and i walk a bit too briskly, my stance is awkward while everyone waits for the bell to ring, on edge. he doesnt think i like him, its not something i preach. we could never be highschool lovers, in the backseat, in his bedroom. he could never understand me. what intelligent conversations would we ever have? hes so generic, like mid-priced beer, fun to have around, but not a taste i could savour. and im too much like lsd slipped into 10 out of 14 cokes. you never know when i am there, how i'll be, whether youll like it or not. its better that the words stay lodged in my throat, too weak to escape, too bitter too swallow.