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Ananya Bhaskar Quote - She’s never silent, you can always listen her soul speaking the tongue of poetry.

She’s never silent, you can always listen her soul speaking the tongue of poetry.

Related Topics

Herself Listening Poetry Silence Soul

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

She was hidden, drenched in darkness. He held her hand and called her luna.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Call Darkness Hands Herself Hide
Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Myself Name Reach Song Thinking Tips
Life is a burden and death is a luxury, at last we are all dreaming to buy.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Burden Death Deep Dreams Life Luxury
Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Drugs Fall Music Soul
I started painting the touch of your voice, and ended up writing a love song.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Love Myself Paint Song Start Touch Writing
And then writer in you is so homesick of pain, that you plead your wounds to bleed and ache.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Ache Blood Home Sick Wound Writing Yourself
You can always wear armor of your smile as a remedy for this world full of damaged souls.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Damage Remedy Smile Soul Wear World
When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Agony Death Herself Hold Learning Pain Soak
I’m the ocean swaying with the harmony of your moon.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Harmony Moon Myself Ocean Yourself
Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Aura Flower Herself Myself Sunflower Warm
I wanted peace, they gave me silence.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Myself Peace Silence
Poem is a phoenix, whose wings are painted in the colors of nostalgia.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Color Nostalgia Paint Phoenix Poem Wings
Your lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Days Lips Rain Taste Yourself
Poetry is an eulogy, sung for hope and love.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Hope One Liner Poetry Sing
I hope my poem touches your soul and tickles your feet. As it is a river, river of my molten heartbeats.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Heartbeat Hope Poem River Touch
Unlike our flesh and bones, our souls always share a common religion. The religion of art.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Art Bone Common Flesh Ourselves Religion Share Soul

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