Cipun Mishra

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Cipun Mishra (Cipun Mishra)

If hearts were landmines, you would be tripping one right now.

www.cipunmishra.wordpress.com

Top tags: yqbaba life love dreams heartbreak
We all are punctuations hiding behind emoticons.

Cloak and dagger.

5 MAY AT 17:06

It is crippling
to be so afraid
of sitting a few metres away
from a sea that winds at your feet.
I am afraid to get up
and walk up to the waves.
I do not know how to stop.
I would not know how to.
You look at the fabric of time
twisting itself through
Iterations of itself.
You let the tides turn,
much like waves crave for the moon,
like the wolf howls for the moon.
You are sitting a few metres away.
You can pine all you want.
The shortest of journeys
would become the longest,
you are petrified.

Fear.

29 APR AT 18:39

I wonder
if I am the only one.
Do you sit in the backseat
constantly imagining
how your car would crash,
and everybody would survive,
but you?
Do you let the sea wash your feet
and walk into it,
without any intentions
of stopping?
You dream up
scenarios where you drown.
It is almost funny
that this thought makes you smile;
you are smiling after an entire week now.
Do you stand on top of a hill,
look at the vast expense of flora
a hundred feet below,
and keep wondering if a gush of wind
would be so kind.
You were never humble,
you were never sweet.
Your parents admit
that they pray 
you were never born.
The stories on your skin
are just foolish attempts 
at setting bookmarks 
in a book that is burning from every corner.
I wonder
if I am the only one
who stand with open arms,
embracing death
like a lover you have not met for a long time now.

Old friend.

29 APR AT 16:43

Roads are spilling off your memories
like paint from the brush,
with which you smear moments
across my bare chest.
I am infinite in this moment,
like arms that stretch for lovers lost,
like imploding worlds inside explosive words.

(Full poem is in the caption.)

Her face twists into a smile, probably patrons of mercy are rolling in their graves. for crimes that I have committed; for every sin that I have lived through, there are very few gestures that save. Like sentences hang from the judge’s gable, her lips part without many words. I know there is escape, but how often do we walk into gardens with no intentions of plucking dreams from the wombs of a bud? I know there is escape, but how often do we step off the ledge with no intentions of being diminished to memory on the charcoal in pages? Her face twists into a smile, probably there are muttered prayers too sinful for sinners to sin. we whisper our prayers into each other’s ears like dirty gospels of bibles unknown. roads are spilling off your memories like paint from the brush with which you smear moments across my bare chest. I am infinite in this moment, like arms that stretch for lovers lost, like imploding worlds inside explosive words.

25 MAY AT 21:22

We make-do with tatters of feelings because this is a world of makeshift humans and temporary emotions.

(Full poem is in the caption)

Bargains. I have bargained words for the dreams of my loved ones. For as long as I can remember, I have bargained dreams for the smiles of my loved ones. I come from a town you cannot quite find on a map. I write lullabies for my demons to fall asleep, so I can be alone for once. I have bargained smiles for the aspirations of grandfathers. We did not have separate rooms to separate emotions, hiding shards of broken hearts behind closed doors. I grew up in a house with more people than walls. We did not have separate rooms to separate promises that we made to ourselves or to our loved ones. Promises often trip into shallow ponds of reticence. And, between dreams that we grew up to see and dreams that we were born for, we became human sacrifices, living and dying all the same. We make-do with tatters of feelings because this world belongs to makeshift humans and temporary emotions. And, I have bargained some death for the poverty that blankets me, for the life of my loved ones. #yqbaba #YQBaba #life #love #story

5 JUN AT 19:43