Un-talked and un-expressed



He was the ruthless king of masks who hides his reality and let the world perceive him the way he wants. I serve my broken pieces in a silver platter. Relish my broken flesh garnished with my broken hopes and may your desire to crush my soul be satiated. The way you poke your finger in my eyes and then squeeze the blood out of it is a thing I will forever desire. May your Highness achieve whatever you wish to achieve. Today I realized who didn’t respect whom. I am a mere slave having needles down my spine and a half-cut tongue, giving blood to my predator. The pressure of your foot was unbearable and this time, yet again, I let myself crush under it. I don’t have any fucking idea what’s going to happen in the next minute, What will you do next? Will my soul die or just get heated up?

I blended in the way you told me, I did whatever you said. I killed my desires and released my sorrows. I murdered my thoughts even when I knew their innocence and would never have caused any harm. I controlled myself and maintained the right posture and happily walked even when my heart was fractured. When you reply “ I love you”, it seems as if you have thrown a rock to my face and in a snowstorm, I am being rolled down by an avalanche, falling down a precipice. And when I fall, my chest gets pierced with a sharp rock, turning the white snow red. And the blood that oozes out, having all the fears, suppression and disappointments is not red, but magenta. Magenta is my color, Magenta describes our love. A couple loved each other so much that they continuously stab each other’s hearts till its beat breathes last. You continue to stab me and stab again and don’t even care to take the knife out. I sit there bleeding and whispering your name, crying, and letting tears fall on my bleeding heart, giving my soul a little more pain. The accusations you shoot takes me aback and your retaliations go through and comes off the other side. The bloodstains on my body dry up due to constant exposure to sadness and come out with brand new ones.

I am breathing. I am breathing because you’re allowing me to breathe. The sweet scent of your anger seems to be very passionate about my life. The soft, caressing hands often touch my throat with pleasure. Your words kiss my heart and crush my soul with all your love. We chose to live in as Mayberry and in a sudden change landed on a world of hate, we being the rulers. Can’t you see through me? Can’t you feel my loyalty and my love for you? Why do you fail to understand me every time? This time, I fell short of my patience and grabbed the weakest weapon and decided to attack you. Your ultimatums jolted me and tore me into shreds. I have to manipulate you, I want to crush my emotions and suppress them for a while so that I can hang your misconceptions to death. I have time. I have enough time. Now it’s my turn baby, not yours.

About the author


Padma K. Mohapatra

An obsessive-compulsive perfectionist, she jumps from one impulse to the other. Wearing her emotions on her sleeve, she loves to study personalities and draw their caricature in her poems. An Editor by profession, she longs for the day when she can paint houses in yellow and fences with pink!


Frame your own piece and tag @cq_magazine on Instagram and hashtag the name of your favorite genre!

About Us

Hello readers!
The Cognitive Quotient, are a collaborative family of litterateurs, poets, storytellers and budding authors. In this world of compulsions and norms, we strive to build a community where ‘literariness’ is our colour and ‘freedom of speech’ is our right. Peep in and have the pleasure to plunge into the depths of consciousness and art, colour the world in your own perceptual mysticism, and join a community of creative and passionate followers! We feel, we write, we publish! This is a small step of our own to make this world a better and colorful place to live in through our artistry. 

Follow us on:

  • Facebook
  • Instagram

COPYRIGHT © 2020 The Cognitive Quotient Media