My favorite thing about being The Fairy Boy is when people find out and they're all, "Oh fairies?"
And I get the pure joy of being like, "No. Fairies."

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My favorite thing about being The Fairy Boy is when people find out and they're all, "Oh fairies?"
And I get the pure joy of being like, "No. Fairies."

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Fairy Poetry
The Love Talker. I met the Love-Talker one eve in the glen, He was handsomer than any of our handsome young men, His eyes were blacker than the sloe, his voice sweeter far Than the crooning of old Kevin's pipes beyond in Coolnagar. I was bound for the milking with a heart fair and free– My grief! my grief! that bitter hour drained the life from me; I thought him human lover, though his lips on mine were cold, And the breath of death blew keen on me within his hold. I know not what way he came, no shadow fell behind, But all the sighing rushes swayed beneath a fairy wind The thrush ceased its singing, a mist crept about, We two clung together–with the world shut out. Ethna Carbury, The Love Talker