We were so close that I almost mistook it forever.
ANANYA BHASKARIts alright darl, moon is also alone in the crowd of stars.
More Ananya Bhaskar Quotes
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He killed her autumn with his cherry blossom smile.
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Love to the fullest. Either you’ll live for eternity or die as a poet.
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She’s never silent, you can always listen her soul speaking the tongue of poetry.
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Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.
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A poet is the most beautiful poem, never read out loud by anyone.
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He’s shy, he talks to her only. She’s bold, she listens to him only.
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Ever since I met you, love wore the shade of your eyes.
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We spent a life time loving, to write an ode to heartbreak in the end.
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And the biggest irony is you spend a lifetime finding someone to love and then die learning how to unlove them.
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Your name landed on my lips like december snow and slept there forever like a baby.
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Let me be a poem freely hung in your diary. Like the moon, on the night sky.
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Your eyes looking into mine, this is how two eclipses collide.
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Worship her for the way she rolls her sleeves up and hums the silence of healing.
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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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Poem is a phoenix, whose wings are painted in the colors of nostalgia.
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Once the sky dreamt of kissing the earth and everyone called it horizon.
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Bleed gracefully without a sigh, until this universe runs out of pain.
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Gift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.
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Darling, do not teach your stars to shine. Teach them how to embrace the darkness.
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After heartbreak, darling treat yourself with some sunset and poetry in a wine glass.
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Rest your head on his shoulder more often. Earth blushes when a snowflake gently dozes off on it.
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Unlike our flesh and bones, our souls always share a common religion. The religion of art.
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She is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.
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You’re a flower, the universe has given to the nature to profess its love.
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He looks up in the sky. I count stars in his eyes.
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Poetry is an eulogy, sung for hope and love.
ANANYA BHASKAR