No Longer the Paper's Girl

She took her pencil to engrave her soul on a paper waiting, But, all he received was one for one a teardrop falling. He looked up in her beautiful eyes with questions to why she rains, Waiting for a grey mark – waiting for her to lift her hand and write out the pain. Moments passed and he still could not get her to tell her story, He wanted to listen, he waited as he stared at the pencil failing to complete his duty. She did not move, she did not speak, her head felt heavy, and her eyes felt weak. Her arms laid down on the paper still waiting upon her, He hugged her back, he held her tight, still with the pencil not making a purr. Sad, sad noises explored the air in the room, Searching for peace whilst she rest her head on the paper’s gloom. His poor girl could not use him anymore, No more word or crafting – no sharing of her heart so sore. Her poor paper had no reason to wait upon the pencil, He had no reason… for his girl was no longer notable. She replaced the pencil with medication against her head, She saw the blank paper with the slightest sight she had left. His girl made him feel like he wanted to rain as well, For he knew he would never be able to hear her writing through the stories she use to tell.