Tissue thin. Fragile. Exposed. Lush full moon, burnt sienna ripe, edges above purpled storm clouds. Eyes aching, longing for stillness, darkness, serenity. Wrested emotions, brazen spirit gives way beneath frustration of normality. Lush full moon calls. Imaginary absorbs the mind, the characters clutch me, jealous, demanding. They whisper incessantly, alluring. They have become my friends, lovers, people I long to make real. Fiction takes me as I imbue the empty pages with beating hearts, active minds caught up in a world of my creation. As I sleep they are beneath my eyelids, I wake reaching for them. What will I do when their time has come and the story finds it’s end? Tissue thin already, bereft of my companions, as I walk through the days of my reality, greedy for the night when I can be alone with them.