Thoughts in bottles battled and shattered the glass of their containers, which floated in the ocean like a sun made of diamonds.
DEEPALI SINGHVIThoughts in bottles battled and shattered the glass of their containers, which floated in the ocean like a sun made of diamonds.
DEEPALI SINGHVITime stops for the heart to tick-tock!
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 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 SINGHVIAdd the frozen dreams, to the passionate flavor, in you and there you are, having the best of you!
DEEPALI SINGHVIStitched with the bemused threads of reality our brains suffer from practicality, a mystic story edited to be a mystery.
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 SINGHVITied to worldly illusions, our sight is but a painted vision.
DEEPALI SINGHVICoping with love’s aftertaste, my fractal feelings sprint in haste, my mellow neurons transmit tears, like a cascade of caramel latte.
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 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 glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.
DEEPALI SINGHVIMy heart isn’t a song of silver and gold, it holds a million graves of solitary souls.
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 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 spikes of the cactus which grows in my heart, are alike the water lilies that only bloom in the dark.
DEEPALI SINGHVI