Analysis of The beauty of vulnerability

My poems are like handwritten letters,  
Feelings portrayed on a page,  
Something you will never hear nor see,  
Wishful for something that will most likely never come to be.

Hope is a strong emotion,  
Waiting impatiently, yet patiently,  
For our friendship to move on to something more intense and deeper,  
I guess you could call it a promotion, some sort of loving, yet compelling devotion.

My heart yearns for yours,  
Every bone in my body aches,  
Our love story comes out of a romance book,  
Rectifying all our past mistakes.
Our failed attempts at that which we thought was love,  
A love story so beautiful that it could only be written by the MAN above.

Yes, it's true, I'm probably in love,  
Because the words coming out of my mouth only tell tales that belong behind romantic book covers.

Our story would go like this:  
Two friends, perhaps one day lovers,  
Thoughts of you, a rollercoaster of pure bliss.

Were we past lovers, did we meet before?  
Because I feel like I've known you, not just in this lifetime but from so many more.

You have completely changed me, ruined me to be precise.  
Are you truly my soulmate or are meant to be someone I'll one day despise?

It's funny, really,  
With you I try and compromise,  
I hate conversating more than a mere second,  
But I eat up your words, trying to keep a listed record.

You remember every detail, everything I've ever said,  
When you speak my own words back to me, I sit back and comprehend.  
Do I carry that much weight in your mind?  
For you remember such small things, nothing of utter importance, no meaning of any specific kind.

You make me sad and happy, both at the same time,  
And I hate that you have this power over me,  
Because it means your words carry weight, and that I value your honest opinion of me.

I'm supposed to be mysterious, not supposed to be read like a book,  
Someone so invisible, someone you'll probably most certainly overlook.

But you see me, not the sane person I pretend to be,  
I hate that you see me, it scares the hell out of me.  
Because it's all I've ever wanted,  
Someone to notice the little things,  
And here I thought I was well guarded.

To tell you the truth, love scares me,  
What's really the point? If you just end up broken-hearted?

But you've got me rhyming, my emotions turned into words,  
Crept your way out of my heart, every emotion, memory of you come undone, dismissed, apart,  
And so, I've become a poet,  
Confessing every thought into a beautiful and perfectly composed work of written art.