I Will Never Compromise

They told me compromise was love—
that surrendering a little of myself
was how peace was made.
That goodness meant folding.
That balance meant loss.

But compromise is not harmony.
It is the slow starvation of desire,
the soft silencing of what aches to be heard.
It is two people trading away truth
until both stand diminished,
half-fed, half-seen,
mistaking emptiness for equilibrium.

We glorify the art of meeting halfway,
as if wholeness were indulgent,
as if devotion were measured
by how much of yourself you’re willing to erase.

But I have learned—
what we call maturity
is often just exhaustion in prettier language.
What we call selflessness
is sometimes fear wearing grace.

I do not want the kind of love
that demands shrinking to fit.
I want the kind that expands—
that says, Keep your shape.
That says, Bring your whole storm.
That says, Let’s build something vast enough
to contain us both.

Collaboration is not compromise.
It is creation.
It is two hands, unafraid of friction,
learning the architecture of togetherness.
It is the radical belief
that we do not have to lose
for each other to win.

So no—
I will never compromise.
Not because I am unyielding,
but because I have finally learned
that love built on reduction
is not love at all.

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Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe