Poetry Weaves Itself


I lay still. And poetry weaves itself around me.

Myriad shapes. Cacophonous dreams. Resonating silences. A web they form. I am soon engulfed by a warp. My numb fingers touch the luminescent strands of imagination and rays benign begin to penetrate through me.

I was on this side and eternity on another.

Entwined in dyed threads, dappling in reality and prodding realization, lines colored begin to ink my mind.

I lay still. And poetry had weaved itself around me.

kavyadsouza3vintage loving blog_Fotorkavyadsouza12


Crop Top – Thrifted

Denims – Marks & Spencer

Bag – StalkBuyLove

Heels – Last Worn Here

Flat Cap – Vintage

Photography – Anish Nair

Till the next post,


You can follow me on Instagram for photo updates everyday!

(Facebook | Twitter | Bloglovin)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>