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Nothing was trying to hurt me, except my own thoughts, which felt like needles, trying to stitch tears within my eyes.

Deepali Singhvi

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The state of nothingness ends, but the longing for it never does!
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My heart isn’t a song of silver and gold, it holds a million graves of solitary souls.
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Petals and thorns grew hand in hand, realizing themselves, the oneness in them didn’t seem afar!
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$Deepali Singhvi Quote - Coping with love’s aftertaste, my fractal feelings sprint in haste, my mellow neurons transmit tears, like a cascade of caramel latte.$

Coping with love’s aftertaste, my fractal feelings sprint in haste, my mellow neurons transmit tears, like a cascade of caramel latte.
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The infinite ceiling of my dainty delicate dreams makes me see the wise world where my heart belongs.
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The spikes of the cactus which grows in my heart, are alike the water lilies that only bloom in the dark.
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Add the frozen dreams, to the passionate flavor, in you and there you are, having the best of you!
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Tied to worldly illusions, our sight is but a painted vision.
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Prohibited from plucking my bluebell emotions, my non-existent existence keeps kindling the aroma of my love.
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Emotion Existence Love Myself
Sometimes the sun shies away, from how the ocean slays, and the ocean keeps its promise, to slay until it sees the sunrays!
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Deep Ocean Promise Shy Sun
Eddying towards my zero points four mystery misted pens naked nib, the stars splash starlight ridden waves, on my ever-circling emotions.
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Time stops for the heart to tick-tock!
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Break me, Break me, Break me until the broken cells of my mind become the glitter of your eyes! My shattered glass neurons have become your tears now.
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Nothing was trying to hurt me, except my own thoughts, which felt like needles, trying to stitch tears within my eyes.
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Thoughts in bottles battled and shattered the glass of their containers, which floated in the ocean like a sun made of diamonds.
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My 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.
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