I wake, with a gasp of breath.
Too real.
This feeling that the Wild has vested in my soul yearns to imprint itself into my entire being like a fine-line tattoo.
But the ghostly presence is gone, lost to dreams and desires unfulfilled.
And the day, too bright against my pale skin.
I’m like a vampire moving through the waking hours as a matter of purpose, but it’s the night I crave.
The quiet of the witching hour where you find me again.