Night is a song, moon and sad people can sing along.
ANANYA BHASKARNight is a song, moon and sad people can sing along.
ANANYA BHASKARShe was hidden, drenched in darkness. He held her hand and called her luna.
ANANYA BHASKARMusic is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.
ANANYA BHASKARWhen god created woman, he was introspecting himself after falling in love.
ANANYA BHASKARFear people who dare to walk with their chest open, despite of having a heart bruise by love.
ANANYA BHASKARWhen she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.
ANANYA BHASKAROnce the sky dreamt of kissing the earth and everyone called it horizon.
ANANYA BHASKARYour lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.
ANANYA BHASKARArt is the sound of a human dying to be an immortal artist.
ANANYA BHASKARI started painting the touch of your voice, and ended up writing a love song.
ANANYA BHASKARShe is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.
ANANYA BHASKARI hope my poem touches your soul and tickles your feet. As it is a river, river of my molten heartbeats.
ANANYA BHASKARRest your head on his shoulder more often. Earth blushes when a snowflake gently dozes off on it.
ANANYA BHASKAREver since I met you, love wore the shade of your eyes.
ANANYA BHASKARGift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.
ANANYA BHASKARWe were so close that I almost mistook it forever.
ANANYA BHASKAR