My heart isn’t a song of silver and gold, it holds a million graves of solitary souls.
DEEPALI SINGHVIMy heart isn’t a song of silver and gold, it holds a million graves of solitary souls.
DEEPALI SINGHVILike a busy fairy smiling in its own melancholy on unending Friday nights, the loving wings of my realistic fantasies, spread themselves as wide as the sea.
DEEPALI SINGHVIMy love is like a trigonometry problem simplified by my heart’s mint green genies, the broken being in me sings a million epiphanies, my life is but colors spilled in polaroids of caring butterflies.
DEEPALI SINGHVITime stops for the heart to tick-tock!
DEEPALI SINGHVIRainbows of emotions ring our hearts to enjoy and feel songs of love’s cappuccino yearning to be a poetic vow!
DEEPALI SINGHVIThe sensation of the sunshine sparkles my eyelids from time to time.
DEEPALI SINGHVIEddying towards my zero points four mystery misted pens naked nib, the stars splash starlight ridden waves, on my ever-circling emotions.
DEEPALI SINGHVINothing was trying to hurt me, except my own thoughts, which felt like needles, trying to stitch tears within my eyes.
DEEPALI SINGHVIA narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.
DEEPALI SINGHVII cried so much that my tears, made up a sea, I survived sailing in that teary sea, to reach the shore, which, at first, didn’t have a door for me!
DEEPALI SINGHVIThe spikes of the cactus which grows in my heart, are alike the water lilies that only bloom in the dark.
DEEPALI SINGHVIFear not the devil’s darkness which you thought of as moonlight, Fear not, the waves knotted within your heart, which crashes onto your eyes waterline, there? Yes there! In that illusion exists you.
DEEPALI SINGHVIThe velvet veins running through my deep-colored wings sing blues, remembering the non-existent maple memories, lighting up my heart’s frosty rays.
DEEPALI SINGHVIThe day I know who I am, why and how is known of me, I will be me, Me: free from thorns and petals that go round and round, in heads and heels, and would reveal me, me indeed!
DEEPALI SINGHVIThe nerves and the turns of time try to dial a smile-every another mile, of whiles and lives, but all they are prompted to is “non-reachable”, because of the route of the mind.
DEEPALI SINGHVIThe leaves shy and smile, of the laughter, when they see themselves – in the mirror of nature.
DEEPALI SINGHVI