Love Letter By My Refrigerator Poem by menash mohan shrestha

Chilling at the core, fire on the surface. Oh! How I wish I could talk. How I wish to say that even my refrigerant is in need of some moving air.
In this scorching heat, I provide you with your much longed ice cubes. But even in my ice chest there is an alein invasion of moulds. Oh How I hate these pychrophils. And in the country of never ending blackouts you kept me in a dark corner. And the self thawing ice inside my compartment wets my innards.
Oh, I'm so sick of this.

And what's more. I can't even talk. Even if I could, you have always preferred a long distance love with me just to enjoy the love of your pet dog. I want to shout out. I want to cry. But unlike you people, I'm not supplied with the mundane communications tools when you are far away from me. Can't convey through words and letters. Can't convery through the phone. Can't convey through the space.

And there's always less people and much food. Less mouth and much long list of menu. Who would tell you that I am not a lorry to carry your sorry.

Your Lonely Love,
Refrigerator.