Tastebuds
Bittersweet--
a word that has always meant so much more to me than
I think it was supposed to.
Of course, bitter coffee with sweet sugar comes to my tongue before anything else and then more:
Bittersweet,
A mood,
A feeling,
An attitude,
Meaningful but lackluster,
Luke warm (a temperature that no one despises but no one longs for either),
A state of being.
The word itself sustains a consistent oxymoron in its every use.
It is neither bitter nor is it sweet
Although it pretends to be both.
The duo warps into a romantic loneliness.
The bittersweet goodbye is neither filled with unending sorrow or limitless happiness,
But instead a tinted contentment.
I am bittersweet. Bittersweet found in the moment before the radio hums into music, after you pushed the covers from the bed but before you stood, hidden between the momentum of childhood and halt of teenage change, splattered across the wall as you hear someone say
“I love you” without meaning it in the same way you do.
The mix of romanticism and cynicism at its finest.
It’s not sad or unpleasing, not joyous or fulfilling.
But
It is enough.
Bittersweet is enough, I am enough, this feeling is enough,
regardless
of the flavor
we may leave
in your mouth
and on your tastebuds.
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