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Ananya Bhaskar Quote - Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.

Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.

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Myself Name Reach Song Thinking Tips

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

Your eyes looking into mine, this is how two eclipses collide.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Eclipse Eyes Love Relationship Yourself
Let me be a poem freely hung in your diary. Like the moon, on the night sky.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Diary Freedom Myself Night Poem Sky
She’s never silent, you can always listen her soul speaking the tongue of poetry.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Herself Listening Poetry Silence Soul
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
Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Drugs Fall Music Soul
Rest your head on his shoulder more often. Earth blushes when a snowflake gently dozes off on it.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Earth Gentle Head Snow Yourself
I started painting the touch of your voice, and ended up writing a love song.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Love Myself Paint Song Start Touch Writing
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
Once the sky dreamt of kissing the earth and everyone called it horizon.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Dreams Earth Horizon Kissing Sky
Love to the fullest. Either you’ll live for eternity or die as a poet.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Forever Full Live Love Poet Yourself
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
Its alright darl, moon is also alone in the crowd of stars.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Alone Crowd Moon Stardom
You left my home and suddenly I was homeless.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Break Up Home Myself
A poet is the most beautiful poem, never read out loud by anyone.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Beautiful Poem Poet Reading
Your lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Days Lips Rain Taste Yourself
Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Aura Flower Herself Myself Sunflower Warm

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