Best 30 quotes of Khadija Rupa on MyQuotes

And they can’t understand, what hurts more— Missing the other person, or pretending not to.

But if ever I try to mend, some other bodies would instantly break, would instantly be fragments.

But I hope you don’t feel the hurt as much as I did. You are too weak and fragile to stand that ache. Remember, you always will be.

But my world fell apart, and all they could do, the whole universe, was to silently move on.

Do you ever wonder, do you, why I loved you for such a long time, and still didn’t really know you?

Do you love me enough that I am allowed to be damaged? Do you love me enough that I am allowed to be weak in some places?

From all my dreams where you felt everlasting to all my clothes your words used to wear, to the old end, to the new beginning, you have lost me everywhere.

How could she be someone’s mistake?

I didn’t want a story—a beginning. Not anymore. I have long ago stopped walking on a road where my dreams walk around. I change my destination a hundred times if I ever see an old wish of mine standing there in its real form. I don’t know them. I don’t want to. They too must not know me. They too must not recognise me as their owner.

I feel the pain—everywhere.

If ever again, someone says to go to the market, where hearts are sold in exchange for melancholy souls, never would I go. Never would I wait, if ever again someone says— not to.

In that silence, I dream to be.

I threw myself so far in your depth that it took me a month to come out and notice I was actually sitting in my room. Nowhere else. Not with you.

It’s a poem, of our love, that doesn’t rhyme. A story, never meant to have, a happy end.

Love has helped me to know God, but in a very selfish way. I learned that if there is one source, only one source, through which I can get everything I love, then it is God. Only God. By loving something or someone, this is who God became to me: a Giver; a Protector: a Helper. Nothing more.

My beauty lies in seeking You, wanting You, and obeying You…when I have everything.

My eyes always keep searching, for something inexpressible, above the far away sky. I long to get lost, inside the evening-twilight. Silence always tickles me — in a strange way; I meet “me” in the time between sunset and darkness.

Only to close these eyes to sleep in the lap of love and stay there forever.

Please don’t tell me, it was less painful than a broken backbone, a forgotten poem, a lost home.

She was a wonderful teenage girl who had the miraculous power to cure herself from any wound, either physical or mental. With her own salty tears, she would cleanse her raw wounds. And her breaths were given, as though not to breathe but, rather, to fan her sores.

So every time I lose one of my shoes and my brother looks at me angrily thinking I’m trying to catch a prince with a lost shoe, or mistakenly cuts myself and the whole world around me thinks I’m trying to attract a vampire, I just laugh sounding like a complete stranger to them. And to everyone like them. I know I don’t need to be a Cinderella. Or an Isabella. I already own things, all things, every single thing, which I love and proudly dream to own. They're just not here…not in this world. And that definitely doesn’t mean, I lost them.

Someday, even my existence would be felt.

There is a sad end I used to live even before I knew this is how I was meant to begin.

The way your curious eyes were chasing mine when I stood in front of you, I knew I had known these eyes before.

This is a girl you can’t keep. You aren’t allowed to.

Through my seeking of what is beyond beautiful, of what is intriguing, of what is free from all imperfections and wrongs, I realise my soul is not from here. I belong to a different place, from a different world, a different existence.

To show you all my scars, is not to tell you that this Dunya would always leave you wounded, and bruised, and on knees, but to show you that see, healing is always possible. Healing is easy. Healing is beautiful.

What about those Promises of yours to never leave me? she asked, stammering too much this time. His cruel smirk was as gut-wrenching as his words— Promises are meant to be broken, sweetheart.

When the twilight of all my evenings reaches me, after a long dark day, my complicated thoughts suffocate inside all of my uncomplicated longings. Evenings refuse to end. And the dawns that constantly swallow up my nights, always shows me an extremely long road I still need to tread, and discover. And get hurt.

Where the cheerful children of unwritten poems, play all around, you will find me there.