The leaves shy and smile, of the laughter, when they see themselves – in the mirror of nature.
DEEPALI SINGHVIRainbows of emotions ring our hearts to enjoy and feel songs of love’s cappuccino yearning to be a poetic vow!
More Deepali Singhvi Quotes
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The glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.
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 infinite ceiling of my dainty delicate dreams makes me see the wise world where my heart belongs.
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The velvet veins running through my deep-colored wings sing blues, remembering the non-existent maple memories, lighting up my heart’s frosty rays.
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Petals and thorns grew hand in hand, realizing themselves, the oneness in them didn’t seem afar!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
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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Santa sobs recalling December’s decor, navigating joys volcano, overcoming dawns of insomnia, waking the snowflakes to find, yearlong sleep, which delightfulness sneaks!
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Time stops for the heart to tick-tock!
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Sometimes the sun shies away, from how the ocean slays, and the ocean keeps its promise, to slay until it sees the sunrays!
DEEPALI SINGHVI -
Unexpressed feelings reside in music that does not have lyrics, but feelings in rhythm!
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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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I 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 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 -
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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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