The white screen, the cold machine
The black fonts
Can they convey the feeling or the care?
The cursor blinks and stares
The wordy promises, the smilies everywhere.
The Gifs of love, affection and passion.
The chats with an unseen stranger
The bold confessions
Who is it on the other side pretending to be the perfect mate?
The caring goodmornings and the messages’ spate.
The lonely get lonelier, entangled in the emotive wires.
For the moneyed, love can even be hired.
The rest keep wandering in the labyrinth of desires.
Will these miniscule drops douse that fire?
No man is an island no longer holds true
Each one a floating lone boat
Eternally searching for his island new…..
– Shailaza Singh
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