You; that exquisite individual.
Highly metaphysical, a question of the mind,
Rather more about what’s inside?
Where can I find the meaning,
The description of what I’m seeing,
Even when you’re out of sight?
**** is what you do right.
Your clenched fist when you have to fight,
Or a gentle kiss on pained lips.
Sometimes it’s the tongue you bite,
Despite your habit of expressing your thoughts
You also have the insight to see
They’ve already had a cold, hard night.
They’ll apologize in daylight, and
You’ve been there too.
**** is not listening when that *** tells you to shut up,
That ad tells you about your big ****,
or ANYONE dares call you a ****.
You’ve got enough voices
Reminding you of choices,
But you stand satisfied
With modest pride of the life you live.
You’re more than ****.
You are seductive, and desirable,
Astonishing and admirable.
You don’t give a **** about a single thing seen in the magazines
Because when you smile, it’s with every fiber of your being.
And you cry from a soul that’s bleeding.
You never think about how others are seeing you,
You are not here for them.  
Your ends will justify the means to your methods.
You are respected because you respect yourself,
You care like no one else, but still protect yourself.
At times a little too much, you can be hard to touch,
But you’re never out of reach for someone drowning
Off this beach of a life.
You mend miseries, offer sympathies,
Yet never ask for a symphony dedicated
To the things you do for others.
You’re humble, but you have troubles too.
We all do.
Why are you ****?
I appreciate you.