Daniel Fitzgerald


Daniel Fitzgerald

Struck match, opened door.
Noting flame, nothing more.

Everything will be okay,
Whispered close.
Singing soft,
Like that'd make it easier.
Calling number.
Comfort made, not found.

Dust from staying,
Ground down trying.
Sailor knots keep weighed,
Butterflies in full bloom.
Tremors, shakes, tiny bottles.
Acceptance hard fought.

With a house, without a home.
Sigh, turn, go.
Seen no more,
Under a murder of crows.
Nothing left review.
Same old ache, someone new.

Without place rather burn;
Heat tickles back.