I have figured it out.

Somehow, you are able to encapsulate love into a tangible gift that you give to me endlessly.

Talking to you
Sometimes
Is like screaming
To the wind
Touching mist
In one ear
Past a space
Out the other

I try to speak
Nothing sticks
I am mute
So it seems
Why is this?

I have found
Little things
Poems I wrote
Years ago
Where I found
The same thing

I cry out
To you dear
What response
Do I hear?

These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.

In silence, we write. 
Without feedback, words fall flat. 
Poetry is extinct.

It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you

I just have to look
at you
to feel it.

To know it
I have to look
away.

Like the pages
of a book
mid-tornado,

Fragments of
information, the pieces
all out of place.

Still,

I believe you
beg to be
read.