The simplest answer is this: Just keep writing. Talent is not something you have, it's something you make by writing and playing with words. If you keep writing long enough, you won't worry about talent, you'll worry about writing that day, which is all that should concern you. Some days it's better, some days it's worse, but none of it is wasted because it all teaches you something about writing itself and your own personal process. The more you learn about that, the more likely it is that your writing will get foxier.
The more time you spend reading other poets whose work you love, the more likely it is your work will get foxier as you pick up and modify some of the moves you notice them using, and make them your own. You make your talent by writing and rewriting and getting to see where you've made your mistakes and learning what new things you want to try out. It's a lifetime process, creating and sustaining and nurturing and helping your talent grow and change.
Many people put it aside, or bury it under alcohol or drugs, which can put it beyond reach. But for the most part, it's a relationship with an important aspect of yourself. How would you want to be treated by those who were going to cherish you if you were going to be happy writing for a lifetime?
It's not a bad idea to try and treat that part of yourself and that part of others as well very much like that.
If you find you need a different sort of treatment, listen to what you have to say to yourself, and follow the best of those guidelines, as though you were taking care of a cherished friend. It's not bad to treat other people like that as well. If you're way off base, other people will let you know by showing you their discomfort. If you're on the mark, both you and the folks around you will feel — not necessarily happy, mind you — but that you're doing well by yourself and well by others and that you're tackling the tasks you need to tackle to keep your writing and your life moving.
Is that an okay and useful answer for you? Or am I simply being silly?
Best wishes, Bob Kaven