She Who Was


She stood.
Defying all laws,
Her stance rebellious.
The colors exploding in an outcry,
It left us cringing.
She didn’t look at me in the eye.
She didn’t look at me in the eye.
The roots were darker.
Maybe she wanted them that way,
Maybe not.
A world deranged encompassed her.
Did she belong there?
She didn’t look at me in the eye.
She didn’t look at me in the eye.
They layered,
They were in folds,
The fabrics masked only to reveal.
Patterns formed.
Some matched the color of her nihilist lips.
She didn’t look at me in the eye.
She didn’t look at me in the eye.
Traces of materialist glory,
Obscure roots of anarchy sown.
Her frame set to the tune of disparaging angles.
The screaming chaos.
Her defiance rapturously embraced her charisma.
She didn’t look at me in the eye.
But an eye of the flash,
And I looked at her through my eye.
  – Kavya D’souza
Picture credit:Google Images
(Fashion for me has always transcended the myopic purview of simply mastering the art of dressing up. For the same reason I often find myself browsing through works of fashion photography and find them as stimulating as literary texts.
This picture caught me stunned. It had a story to tell. Screaming to be heard, to be voiced. I simply penned down the conversed transient thoughts in ink.
For there are moments when literature and fashion, the two loves of my life, collide rapturously only to fuse together and blow me over.)

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