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Drowning colours between the waves of love and twi

Drowning colours between the waves of love and twilight heartbreak. (A conversation between love and heartbreak Caption...) Love: I'm mother of all. I give life to all by kissing the heart with crimson colours, oozing sonnets and little tiny haiku running towards footprints of affection by holding the melodious hands of syllables. I not only give vision to those small eyes beholding new moon in the center of ocean; but I also give vision to the heart which sparks current of various seasons. You see, how I turn dark howling blackhole to ecstatic vibrant nebulae which again starts breathing the oxygen of hope and flatter the wings of colour, by extracting colours from the fairy lands, filled with lavenders blooming dandelions and roses entwining Jasmine! Aren't some butterflies now flying in your stomach to touch these colours and let the senses drench in these magical fragrance?! I keep alive the skeletons too, resting in the graveyard by singing their poetry, soothing the hearts of all those who come every month to quench the thirst by offering roses. Heartbreak:
Drowning colours between the waves of love and twilight heartbreak. (A conversation between love and heartbreak Caption...) Love: I'm mother of all. I give life to all by kissing the heart with crimson colours, oozing sonnets and little tiny haiku running towards footprints of affection by holding the melodious hands of syllables. I not only give vision to those small eyes beholding new moon in the center of ocean; but I also give vision to the heart which sparks current of various seasons. You see, how I turn dark howling blackhole to ecstatic vibrant nebulae which again starts breathing the oxygen of hope and flatter the wings of colour, by extracting colours from the fairy lands, filled with lavenders blooming dandelions and roses entwining Jasmine! Aren't some butterflies now flying in your stomach to touch these colours and let the senses drench in these magical fragrance?! I keep alive the skeletons too, resting in the graveyard by singing their poetry, soothing the hearts of all those who come every month to quench the thirst by offering roses. Heartbreak:
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Springblossoms

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