Pinpoint me on the spectrum and axis,
if the quadrant helps you make sense of it.
It’s a secluded sector where many sexes intersect.
Us lost ones tend to project,
What lines? We cross them over-
Degrees of separation between friends
Misplaced concupiscence, false positives,
Diagnosed by a rogue Rorschach.
Doc, this isn’t a phase,
She’s straight up spoken for.
A single (x,y) coordinate, oblivious
to Queer little me, impossible to plot.
Multifaceted, yet fitting into the narrative,
hers is a milestone on a timeline I’ll never live.