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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

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

Exist so loud that even if you die tonight, your deeds illuminate like stars.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Death Existence Illumination Loud Night Stardom
She is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Blood Herself Inspirational Nature Pain
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
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
She was hidden, drenched in darkness. He held her hand and called her luna.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Call Darkness Hands Herself Hide
You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.
ANANYA BHASKAR

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
You deserve the love that stays with you like the childhood poem you still remember by heart.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Childhood Deserve Heart Love Poem Remember Stay Yourself
I’m the ocean swaying with the harmony of your moon.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Harmony Moon Myself Ocean Yourself
Your name landed on my lips like december snow and slept there forever like a baby.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Forever Land Lips Name Sleep Snow
Death is the mercy of life on us.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Death Life Mercy Ourselves
Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Drugs Fall Music Soul
Night is a song, moon and sad people can sing along.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Moon Night People Sadness Sing Song
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
She’s never silent, you can always listen her soul speaking the tongue of poetry.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Herself Listening Poetry Silence Soul
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

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