My heart isn’t a song of silver and gold, it holds a million graves of solitary souls.
DEEPALI SINGHVIProhibited from plucking my bluebell emotions, my non-existent existence keeps kindling the aroma of my love.
More Deepali Singhvi Quotes
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Santa sobs recalling December’s decor, navigating joys volcano, overcoming dawns of insomnia, waking the snowflakes to find, yearlong sleep, which delightfulness sneaks!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
A narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Nothing was trying to hurt me, except my own thoughts, which felt like needles, trying to stitch tears within my eyes.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The infinite ceiling of my dainty delicate dreams makes me see the wise world where my heart belongs.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Rainbows of emotions ring our hearts to enjoy and feel songs of love’s cappuccino yearning to be a poetic vow!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Add the frozen dreams, to the passionate flavor, in you and there you are, having the best of you!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Truth never ages-old, It is as deep as the universe.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The leaves shy and smile, of the laughter, when they see themselves – in the mirror of nature.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The sensation of the sunshine sparkles my eyelids from time to time.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Break me, Break me, Break me until the broken cells of my mind become the glitter of your eyes! My shattered glass neurons have become your tears now.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Fear not the devil’s darkness which you thought of as moonlight, Fear not, the waves knotted within your heart, which crashes onto your eyes waterline, there? Yes there! In that illusion exists you.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Unexpressed feelings reside in music that does not have lyrics, but feelings in rhythm!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Like a busy fairy smiling in its own melancholy on unending Friday nights, the loving wings of my realistic fantasies, spread themselves as wide as the sea.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Stitched with the bemused threads of reality our brains suffer from practicality, a mystic story edited to be a mystery.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.
DEEPALI SINGHVI