Birdsong is absent from my ears,
There is neither giddiness nor eternal sunshine.
He still leaves a mark: the remnants of a slow
Strangulation which renders me numb.

I volunteered to be blind. I became a sacrificial
Lamb so consumed with my slaughterer that
I could not see his axe. And when he slit my throat
I begged for his forgiveness.

But you. You are no God.
You lack the confidence
Of vast privilege and arrogance
That disarmed me so suddenly.

You come not as a cat and I as a
Mouse. You come as a person,
Real and gentle with a goofy smile
And uneven stubble.

You laugh with your eyes. Or rather your face.
You laugh so completely that I feel your
Very soul is shaking with uncontrollable
Joy. And it is me on which they rest.

I am a lamb no more.
I stand on balanced scales.
I am adored.
And my revelation: I deserve this.