Mixed Signals

There is nothing left to say.
I could tell you about how his eyes
never meet mine and yet I go into his room every day.
I could tell you about my body
leaning against the wall as he
sits in bed
watching The Walking Dead.
I could tell you about the woman
that breaks his hard face
into a smile— rolling onto the pillow/
knocked over from laughing too hard—
and I watch her rub his arm
as

Mixed Signals