The Taste Of Peace

If I could just swallow my pride, everything would be alright.

The silence wouldn’t stretch so long,

the nights wouldn’t hum with unfinished fights.

I’d stop measuring my words like they were weapons I might regret.

But pride

sticks like thorns in my throat

tight, sharp, unwilling.

It tells me you should be the one to bend.

Pride tells me if you break first, you lose.

Pride lies, but it lies so well.

If I could just unclench my jaw,

let the apology fall out simple, clean, like rain

maybe we’d stop pretending we’re fine and finally be.

Maybe your eyes would soften again,

maybe the air between us would stop bristling like it’s waiting for someone to flinch.

If I could just swallow my pride, just once I might taste peace.

And I think I might be hungry for that.