My Feral Celtic Faerie Queene
babe
I stumbled home—
drenched in Guinness, soaked in guilt
the apartment crumbles, a shattered ruin
but you—your copper mane ablaze—
my wild Morrigan
a feral Celtic Faerie Queene
waging war against the wreckage.
You told me love was a lie
stitched by leprechauns
but your touch proves
there’s truth in everything
we break and rebuild.
Chased the wail of a banshee tonight
hoping to drown the shame
gulped it down like bottom-shelf whiskey.
Instead I christened the clover—
four leaves or forty—who cares? —
baptizing failures
trembling hands at work.
In this emerald world of lies
forget unicorns rainbows and clovers—
false luck's for fools and drunks.
Luck’s a liar
a Puca’s trick
crumbling when touched.
But you—
wear that emerald dress
like a battle cry.
A storm inside a woman
whiskey-fire eyes dare me
to fall harder
and I do. Every time.
You are my reel—
venomous alive
an unseelie’s song
the one thing that won’t let me escape.
I’ve fed the snakes with my mistakes
but still
I kneel before you—
a fool
drunk on you
more potent than any fairy brew.
We aren’t saints
but we’re still here—
holding on to this wreckage
with blood-stained hands.
Pour another pint, love—
let’s dance on glass fragments
our broken dreams—
our frenzied jig
painting the town green—
two misfits spinning
through this carnival of Fiana fools.
In the chaos
in the ruin
we find each other.
No leprechaun guards our gold
but you—my queen of chaos—
are treasure enough
to keep me alive.
So here's to you, my wild Morrigan—
in your eyes I find my home
the only shelter I’ve ever known.
in your smile, I find sanctuary and storm alike—
for you, are my feral Celtic Faerie Queen.
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