my ground, my hill

We broke it off in the same conversation that you told me that you loved me for the first time.

I wonder if you thought love would make a difference, would cause me to change my mind.

I still wonder why you said it, when we were already at an end.

Is that what closure feels like? Leaving none of your words left unsaid?

We had already decided that our futures couldn’t align.

You wanted a house, a wife, two kids, and a dog.

I wanted myself, a good book, and a job.

No nuclear family, no calling myself mom.

You apologized for not taking me seriously every time the words slipped out my mouth.

You tried to convince yourself that you could be happy without.

I told you no, kids are no compromise.

I won’t change for you, so you can’t change for what’s mine.

You’ll find a girl and a white picket fence, a girl who wants kids, who can give you a home.

I’ll stand my ground, find a boy who’s okay being alone.

Because love isn’t always enough to make having children okay.