From the empty air a bold lines forms an outline in bold blank ink.
Black hair can float like a feather resting upon graceful sunkissed shoulder.
Fluttering feathered lashes blink out brown eyes full of undeveloped emotion.
She is a woman with lanky limbs and small feet.
She formed from nothing, blank page now cursed with the cursive of her discription.
Her personality a ball of sunshine draped with mistakes and Colgate smiles.
She can eat a book but she always swallows her own words.
She formed from a fountain pen and disappeared with the closing of the cover.
Forever living on in the mind of her author.
And somehow I am still unsure if she is just a character or has she become me.