Sharpies bleed through notebook paper with ease as their ink is too strong for the lines to absorb
It’ll leak and seep down and down, not caring about how many pages it leaves ruined with the shadows of previous pages
I’ve written you many letters
Letters with my own ink bleeding into your pages
You are a novel with sandy, thin pages like a butterfly’s wings
A story I desperately want to be a part of
But your twelve point times new roman font rejects my messy cursive with distaste
Margin writing doesn’t affect the book itself, it only comforts the reader in that it reassures them
Reassures that slowly they are gathering the pieces to put together the puzzle
Your book is sold from the old bookstore
Your cover fair and back almost brand new
Spine intact with no folding or drying of the glue
You are you
I wrote a few notes, at least I tried
I accidentally used a sharpie so I’m sorry with the bleeding inside
Goodbye
May your new owner take better care of you than I
Make sure she uses a pencil
Before she writes inside