Three short lines, and the whole poem turns on a mismatch of scale. The title, "Cozy," promises warmth and smallness, and the first line delivers it: a "little home." We expect comfort, maybe a snug place where two people fit together.
Then comes the odd, striking phrase "the eyeprints of love." It suggests the marks that looking leaves behind, as if a loving gaze could press itself onto walls and objects the way fingers leave prints on glass. Love here is something seen and traced everywhere in the space. The last line says these marks are "all too big."
That ending can be read two ways. Perhaps the feeling is so large the little home can barely hold it, which is tender and a bit overwhelming. Or perhaps the love is too much, almost crowding or exposing the speaker. The poem doesn't choose, and that gives it its mood: quiet, intimate, and slightly uneasy, like a warm room that suddenly feels very full.