Is This Called...?

Is this called love,
That wants to share lust?
Is this called that,
A request comes fast?
The world that awaits,
To leave the nurtured world,
To hear the mellifluous chord,
Now is miserably hurled!
You may call me fool,
May consider rubbish thing.
But without touching me,
Can you play my string?
I can, I can, I smell you,
Can see you from too far.
Can feel you in absence,
Distance is no bar.
I never get any fatal scar,
In my heart, from you.
Your silence burst into tear,
But the drops fall as dew!

poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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