My heart isn’t a song of silver and gold, it holds a million graves of solitary souls.
DEEPALI SINGHVICoping with love’s aftertaste, my fractal feelings sprint in haste, my mellow neurons transmit tears, like a cascade of caramel latte.
More Deepali Singhvi Quotes
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A narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Tied to worldly illusions, our sight is but a painted vision.
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Stitched with the bemused threads of reality our brains suffer from practicality, a mystic story edited to be a mystery.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Thoughts in bottles battled and shattered the glass of their containers, which floated in the ocean like a sun made of diamonds.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The leaves shy and smile, of the laughter, when they see themselves – in the mirror of nature.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The 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 SINGHVI -
Truth never ages-old, It is as deep as the universe.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The sensation of the sunshine sparkles my eyelids from time to time.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Petals and thorns grew hand in hand, realizing themselves, the oneness in them didn’t seem afar!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
The state of nothingness ends, but the longing for it never does!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Eddying towards my zero points four mystery misted pens naked nib, the stars splash starlight ridden waves, on my ever-circling emotions.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Fear 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 SINGHVI -
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.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Like 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 SINGHVI