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1st – The Turning Page by Izzy Jones

[‘You are just like a poem’ the girl said, ‘Why?’ came the reply, ‘I shall tell you so.’]

You invite a cult following by refusing to commit
To one moment of sincerity, or a single hit
Of that drug called passion, in your esteem so low,
Your form so well constructed, eyes flow from top to toe.

Consonants chequering your intent, though it was never there,
Inhabiting that quiet where you aren’t what you could be,
Tethered vowels droop in longing for some forgotten care,
Lovely in their artlessness. Is tragedy not beauty?

Your smile is decorated with pearls of syllables unsaid,
Compose yourself my love, worm your way into my head,
Scintillating sibilance sends shivers down my spine,
Present me with your vagaries; you’ll have meaning being mine.

Pattering your timed waves of sing-song flattery,
Your words, like autumn leaves, crashing in my ear,
A thousand-million vibrations honoured by you, truly.
You only lift our faces to read what we want to hear.

You are a mirage, poised in interpretation while
We live on after you, all substance and no style.