Soul Journal

I open the notebook, and pause.

The clean sheet of paper reminds me of a fresh set of sheets. Crisp, vanilla white, unblemished. The smooth expanse of white begs for attention.

The pencil I had poised to take notes instead arcs across the page, leaving a fluid trail. A few more lines and a body begins to emerge.

She is relaxed, her limbs sinking into the cotton. Sinking into the page. A slight smile plays on her lips and her legs part, the soft sheet forming into ripples.

A few more strokes of my pencil and her gaze is direct, her wide eyes dark and full of yearning.  I shift my hand, and the outline of a someone standing takes form, facing her. Just a back, close to me, the muscles firm.