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Ananya Bhaskar Quote - You’re a flower, the universe has given to the nature to profess its love.

You’re a flower, the universe has given to the nature to profess its love.

Related Topics

Flower Love Nature Universe

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

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

Once the sky dreamt of kissing the earth and everyone called it horizon.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Dreams Earth Horizon Kissing Sky
You’re breathed all over the walls of my lungs and I don’t know how to breathe you out.
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Break Up Breathe Memories Relationship Wall Yourself
Poem is a phoenix, whose wings are painted in the colors of nostalgia.
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Color Nostalgia Paint Phoenix Poem Wings
When god created woman, he was introspecting himself after falling in love.
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Creation Fall In Love God Introspect Woman
You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.
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Earth Eyes Happiness Heaven Reality Smile
He’s shy, he talks to her only. She’s bold, she listens to him only.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Bold Herself Himself Listening Shy Talk
I hope my poem touches your soul and tickles your feet. As it is a river, river of my molten heartbeats.
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Heartbeat Hope Poem River Touch
Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.
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Aura Flower Herself Myself Sunflower Warm
Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.
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Drugs Fall Music Soul
Worship her for the way she rolls her sleeves up and hums the silence of healing.
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Healing Herself Silence Way Worship
Gift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.
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Blush Fall Flower Himself Watch
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
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
I started painting the touch of your voice, and ended up writing a love song.
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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.
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Ache Blood Home Sick Wound Writing Yourself
He looks up in the sky. I count stars in his eyes.
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Count Eyes Himself Sky Stardom

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