I write this poem to you.

You and your hard to pen down physique,     

And a personality that requires words beyond my comprehension.   

Maybe you exceed 10th-grade literature and I need to expand my capabilities to fit you.  
 

I write this poem to you    

Pacing across my room, crumbling papers filled with self-critique.  

Lying awake at night, crossing out tasteless adjectives and metaphors.   

Maybe words are incapable to describe the literary mystery that is you. 
 

Or maybe I just can’t handle the truth. 

I still wrote this poem to you. 

Or at least I tried to  

Oxford dictionary surrendered its weapons in front of you. 
 

But at last, this poem is done and you can know you are better than everyone. 

I hope you're happy because alas, this poem is not about me, but you.