Allow me to speak of the marks you have made, of this veritable letter of inner turmoil
It begins with small marks, little notes, akin to half-thoughts you have yet to verify
Passages of utmost importance circled or underlined, or perhaps a mixture of both
Stars drawn with a heavy hand to reiterate their urgency
Your inevitable decline into laziness, as your letters slow
The underlines overtaken by half-hearted scribbles, I laugh as your pencil changes
As I erase, every additional mark in this library book makes me hate you a little more.