Thoughts...
an excerpt

"Why can't it go on?" said the pencil to the white sheet of blank paper.

"I'm not sure. Why did you want to stop in the first place?" said the page.

"I didn't. The thoughts are not vibrating through me like usual." said the writing utensil, crestfallen.

"Then stab the hand that uses you." said the frayed edge of the notebook.

Pencil considered that idea for a moment.

"No, then i will just be shut up in a drawer for weeks and I won't get to see you." said pencil to the paper.

Paper fluttered on the desk as if in blushing embarrassment.

Pencil scribbled something in the lower left corner.

"Oh, write on me. Yes! Pencil, write on me some more..." moaned paper.