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Nikita Gandhi Quote - All I want for christmas is your warmth, near the firing woods. Cuddling on the chair, swinging in merry times, forgetting our bad lies.

All I want for christmas is your warmth, near the firing woods. Cuddling on the chair, swinging in merry times, forgetting our bad lies.

Related Topics

Bad Fire Forget Lying Myself Time Warmth

Bagwalas

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We have engaged ourselves so much in the idea of self love, that everyone else appears to be empty shelves.
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Anger makes you vulnerable, It slowdowns the mind and make us slip our tongues often.
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Stay peaceful until your inner conflicts turn into a war with someone.
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The sound of those crickets still drowns me in the summer fantasy.
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I chose myself today, not over you. I can never do that, and you know that well. I just chose the new me over my past self.
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It is hard holding a spot in your body that doesn’t want you.
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What good you did in separating those petals from a rose show some efforts in separating it’s thorns.
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Our noses mingled, even though we had sharp differences. Yet we kept on fighting, over minor preferences.
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I have been confused with many pretty smiles earlier but your canines hit me differently.
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You bloom one day, you do not on another. This is life and every flower doesn’t require the same amount of sunshine.
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It’s exhausting stitching the bruises of the past with the one you see your whole life with.
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All those lavenders seemed purple in love they turned lilac without him.
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All I want for christmas is your warmth, near the firing woods. Cuddling on the chair, swinging in merry times, forgetting our bad lies.
NIKITA GANDHI

Bad Fire Forget Lying Myself Time Warmth
You don’t need to wear a strong scent, to make me feel your presence. I can hear your heart calling my name from miles away.
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Sometimes, I feel sorry for you. I’m not there to hold you, and this clouded sky do not let you talk to the moon.
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I couldn’t experience an end with you, because you have always been a beginning to something new every day.
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Breaking things as a child seemed so easy, than fixing broken things as a adult.
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You make sunlight doubt its role in winters as you set my body on fire.
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My freedom doesn’t end with you, it keeps expanding itself with its little invisible feathers, to grow into a phenomenon of never resting soul.
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In the story, I was the woman of words, where you couldn’t be a man of actions. At least my words weren’t a lie.
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My notebook couldn’t carry the burden of all those words which my heart once felt.
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I found the universe in you when people thought the sky is the limit.
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I wonder if there is someone in the sky waiting for me to wake up at five.
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