Khadija Rupa

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 __n a strange way;I meet __e__n the time between sunset and darkness.

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.

There is a sad end I used to liveeven before I knewthis is how I was meant to begin.

In that silence, I dream to be.

It__ a poem, of our love, that doesn__ rhyme. A story, never meant to have, a happy end.

This is a girl you can__ keep. You aren__ allowed to.

So every time I lose one of my shoes and my brother looks at me angrily thinking I__ trying to catch a prince with a lost shoe, or mistakenly cuts myself and the whole world around me thinks I__ trying to attract a vampire, I just laugh sounding like a complete stranger to them. And to everyone like them. I know I don__ 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__ mean, I lost them.

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

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

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.

I didn__ want a story__ 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__ know them. I don__ want to. They too must not know me. They too must not recognise me as their owner.

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.

I feel the pain__verywhere.

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

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.

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

Someday, even my existence would be felt.

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?