Confusion within a poet's mind

I guess poetry doesn't suit me much
of my desire to express in words of touch;
lines lined up to make a catch
syllables counted rhymes to match

I don't know how to make this clear
to expound my feelings to you my dear
all I want is for you to hear
that my heart is darted with an angles spear

Now what do I do?
I'm standing in the middle of the rain
Alone and as I feel the droplets of its pain
it is you who shed the dearest tears of mine

That night I felt
the heat of your embrace
the sugar in your diabetic words;
softly spoken directly to my ears

and to you my dear
I learned to stare upon the stars
after the heavy downfall of that strong rain
the wounds and scratches became scars

Now this poet's mind is in the middle of confusion
on what to express, on what to comprehend
but this poet will never pretend
how touched she is with your embrace...