Her Disorienting Beauty

I write poems about her and her disorienting beauty
to express how beautiful I think she is truely
But always my dizzy mind runs into insecurity
Who am I to say she is pretty, is it my duty?

She doesn't need my poem to know she is dumbfoundingly gorgeous
She doesn't derive legitimacy about her beauty from me, that's ridiculous
In fact her beauty speaks for itself
And she speaks for herself

Maybe I'm overanalyzing
Or maybe overthinking

I still want to express how I feel though

I still want to use metaphors and similes and analogies
To say that she is like a flower to which I have no allergies
But I also want to say she is like a kangaroo
Hopping around without a clue...

Never mind that makes no sense

She writes poems about me too you know
She also thinks I'm like a flower or kangaroo

That's what I care about
I care about her thoughts and her mind

So from where do I derive legitimacy to write this poem?
I derive it from her and her poem
I derive my thoughts and feelings and messed up description
From her insane incomprehensible words riddled with confusion