Built Me A House On Housefly Eyes Poem by John W. McEwers

Yeah,
they're small but I fit
and if the sun dont come
I'd be ok with that
cause I can sift through the fog and see what you didn't want me to
that i can get through to you
and say something that hurts you
pains
you
makes you
writhe.

and in the heat of my room when we done yelling at one another
we lock lips and fingers and you cry that its alright
and we havent been this close for years
but you stuck with me
in my tiny little home
my homes
I build out of twine
and bone
that crumble
when I hear your name

I love you, Kate, and will always do
for if it werent for me
you would be a better you