Swipe Left on Love
The search is endless–a digital bazaar of faces, bios, promises,
Each swipe is a hope and a dismissal,
Looking for something that feels like fate, but everything’s just a placeholder for the next option,
Profiles blur together, names forgotten before the screen even refreshes,
Connections ghost in the morning, conversation turns to dead air,
Everyone is hunting, but nobody is staying,
We market ourselves like products, hoping for five-star reviews,
But intimacy can’t be delivered overnight, can’t be boxed and shipped,
We pretend this is choice, but it’s really just fear dressed up as freedom,
A loneliness we dress in irony and memes,
Each match is just another stranger to disappoint.
Somewhere between the algorithms and the emojis, something gets lost–
The look in the eyes, the warmth of a hand, the thrill of someone choosing you when nobody’s looking,
But here, we swipe and scroll, trading real connection for the illusion of endless possibility,
Selling our stories for a chance at something better,
But the thrill fades fast, and the emptiness grows deeper,
Until the phone is heavy in your palm and hope is just a muscle that never gets used.
Maybe one day we’ll get tired, put the phone down,
Notice the world outside, take a risk on someone real,
Let our flaws be seen, our histories confessed,
Because love isn’t a formula, and happiness isn’t an algorithm,
But until then, we’ll keep swiping,
Left on hope, left on heartbreak,
Left on love–until something changes or the batteries finally die.