The Fat Fly keeps my attention.
He is not so needy
and needs more time to rest.
I once cuddled with a Fat Fly
and awaited upon his death.
Large enough to see
yet small enough to ignore
I knew him,
I knew his name
and his breath.
His eyes so plenty,
and wings so free
I needed him that morning,
like I hoped he needed me.
His life still slivers
and buzz not buzz
countless thoughts through sheet faces
a life, there never was.
So child was my answer,
in knowing he had came..

Though a fly is just a fly,
I would see him many times..

Over and over again.