Idiot Sapphic
Do you like me, or are you just kind?
Do I misconstrue
Your affectionate words,
Your gestures of a sweet nature,
As symbols of adoration?
Am I am idiot sapphic?
So unaware of flirtatious musigs
And romantic advances
That all opportunities for love pass me by?
I used to fear the gaze of other women.
Fear of judgement, of disgust, of pity,
By women inherently more perfect than me
In my eyes.
Now I long for it.
Craving the pure intimacy
Of feeling as though someone is watching
With cartoonish heart-eyes.
Do you like me, or am I an idiot sapphic,
Desperate to love and be loved,
Yet so unsure what is romance
And what is kindness?
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