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Kathryn Apr 2020
It is cold tonight,
leave a saucer of sweet-milk
out for the fairies.
I had a deep love for Irish folklore <3 My mother believed in fairies and if I'm honest I hope they're real. So I write them little love poems and maybe someday they'll let me dance with them.
Aquila Dec 2019
our love was-
But it is true.
From toadstools upturned
To faerie jinxes,
It is true.
And I know, in my spirit,
That your hand was destined to meet mine.
One way or another.
I think I’ve found a good one. I don’t want to jinx it. But I hope I’ve found a good one. He is so lovely
Crow Oct 2019
With your golden eyes,
your sharp-toothed smile,
the words you spin in gossamer,
in starlight,
in orb-weaver silk.

You compose
a symphony in mycelium:
Each tree an instrument,
each interwoven root
a note in harmony.

Silvertongue, sundew,
you have set a snare with green willow,
a net of blackberry thorns,
baited it with honey.
All around, the evergreen pines,
the winter roses bloom.
A sweet end,
arranged in perfect circles
for you and I alone.

I step, happily, toward your waiting arms—
for with your clever, clever fingers,
you have
steal me.
Crow Oct 2019
(what do you want from me?)

i want you to come with me,
deep below,
down beneath,
let me bury you.

(would it be quiet down there?)

with dirt in your ears,
dirt on your tongue,
the silence so beautiful.

(and if i don't like it, can i dig myself up again?)

but you won't want to.
the earth will hold you,
the dark will warm you,
the worms will sing to you.

you will never be lonely again.  

(then bury me,
hold me,
don't ever let me go.)
bury me.
Aurora RW Sep 2019
She was the Fae to walk the dawn,
Her eyes wide like scarlet moons.
She faced the day like no other,
She fought the sky
She fought the moon
She fought the world with spirit high,
For love, nay for life,
She was brave as was her might,
To spread her wings across the moors,
A Fae to rise and live again
Rae Sep 2019
A boy with sloping shoulders that lies beneath the summer moon
His hair in feathered clumps and skin a pale green
The sugared breeze whispers between green-toothed skeletons
Whose crooked bodies loom, shadows dancing over his bare feet
Melted blues spill into oil and speckled white
An open canvass above to freckle his face with dew and starlight
His appled cheeks plump and rosy, his wet brown cow eyes and
Dancing hummingbird beat throb an echo across the woods
A rhythm that races between your xiphisternum and back bone.

When his laughter dances across the nape of your neck
When his breath coats your arms and tickles your brow
When his summer song flutters in and out of your hearing
Too soft and swift for your tree-root heart,
Then you must open your eyes and arms and embrace the heavens
Open your mouth and drink in the night air
In the hope his fleeting mirth might float by and trickle down your throat, might dust your heart in gold and green.
Journey of Days Nov 2017
the faerie is unwell
her sociopathic tendencies
are stamped in pretty, intricate, mosaics
across her wings
she backs herself in every game
and games everyone
careless regard for those she befriends
blaming others for her mistakes
even her shadow feels bullied and harassed

after rigorous analysis of observations and field notes now conclude that  faeries have personality disorders
Journey of Days Nov 2017
the faerie is unwell
his shadow drags him
regretting taking him to parties
due to the muttering and monologues
the fashionable goggles he insists on wearing
are dark and distort perception

after rigorous analysis of observations and field notes now conclude that  faeries have personality disorders.
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