An Empty Sheet

        
                           To start out new, what to wait until: an empty sheet.
                           To quit it good, how to make it nil: an empty sheet.
        
                           Her bed’s made up for no stranger to stay the night,
                           a thin blanket against winter’s chill, an empty sheet.
        
                           As though egged on by the absence of her true love,
                           is that not raw desire to every quill? An empty sheet?
        
                           How can vain chitchat bent only on its own conceits
                           with no light past its own hope to fill an empty sheet?
        
                           He’s never seen her best. She squeezes out his worst.
                           A dry pen’s what’ll come of their ill, an empty sheet.
        
                           Don’t take yourself so seriously, Cyn. If nothing else
                           gets you, your end’ll ensure what will: an empty sheet.
        

        


prompted by Poetic Asides — 2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge
4: [Blank] Sheet

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