Sarah

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Sarah, 18, Singapore
(click the flower above for older entries)

Twitter: @sarahbananachan
Instagram: hisarahnademe

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These

Tuesday, September 29, 2015 || 12:24 AM

These are all my words: they are coming together in sweet harmony; pulsating through my veins like fresh bullets plummeting through skin — desperate to find their way out.

These are all my body parts: my hands, eyes, hair, skin, heart. They are laid out in front of you with a sort of openess only reserved for careless love with a propensity to spill over guarded palms. A sort of carefully thought out recklessness resides in the spaces between us. I take it all in.

These are all my pieces: a smattering of fragments strewn beneath your feet. They are yours for safekeeping — you tuck them in at night with the promise they remain unassailable in your care. I know I am safe with you.

I guess I'm done

Saturday, July 11, 2015 || 1:41 PM

I wanted to write something about you, an ode, a poem, anything — but I was stuck; my mind drawing blanks as bare as the spaces between us. I no longer have anything to say.

Hesitant

|| 10:08 AM

These are the sweet pockets of warmth edging its way through the ridges beneath the cracks of my skin — tiny sparks of hope. I house them all with caution, trembling fingers shelving them in with all my broken pieces.

I am only somewhat there — I am an unabridged apology, all too careful and never enough ready. I am two parts shaken and all parts fear. I am sorry I can only ever be a somewhat, a kind-of, a maybe, an "I'll think about it", a placeholder. These palms do not have much to offer, for now, at least.

There are so many mistakes to be made. There is not enough of me to bear their consequences.

Some old poetry

Sunday, June 21, 2015 || 9:17 AM

(Something I wrote quite awhile back.. have not been writing as of late)

haiku (i):

where are you going?

i am still here, still waiting —

stillness fills these lungs.

haiku (ii):

two eyes, but one heart.

there is not enough of you

to fill this void, whole.

haiku (iii):

there is only room

for a quiet acceptance:

we cannot collide.

1am thoughts

Saturday, May 16, 2015 || 12:56 AM

I need space. So much space that if you lay me down from head to toe I would stretch across an entire ocean — vast amounts of air drifting through my fingers, waves washing over my skin; spilling onto the shore as a sort of premonition. Almost as if it is struggling to make itself known, a forewarning of sorts residing in my open palms. My touch is the equivalent of yellow tape plastered all over the scene of crime: do not cross or you might get hurt, and regrettably so.

I never did deserve what you had to offer, but I also didn't deserve what you chose to deny me of.

Avoidance

Thursday, May 14, 2015 || 10:36 AM

I will cross the

roads. I will make

every turn. I will

push away every

thought before

it bubbles over;

like broth

from a creek —

and spills

onto the edge like

asphalt, rendering

me helpless.

Three different things I want to say to three different people

Saturday, April 25, 2015 || 12:20 PM

1. Thank you for so, so much light. This self will love you for as long as you let me.

2. I miss your analogies — I felt like they were slivers of yourself you gave me for safekeeping, pockets of warmth pressed firmly into my palms. Sometimes... I think I hurt you too, in a different sort of way than you did me. Now all that I am trying to tell you is how sorry I am — I am a living, breathing, moving apology. I will be for all my days.

3. I am not someone you want to touch like this. There is inevitable hurt lying in these veins, ready to give itself away to you if you shake me up too hard. I hope you channel your affection somewhere, someplace more worthy of it. I am no place to call home.

Synthesis

Thursday, March 26, 2015 || 9:17 PM

i am collecting

blood samples:

a sliver, a river,

oceans of red

gathered in my palms.

ii.

how much

light does one

need? my heart

is dense with it.

iii.

this is why

we exist in an

endless symbiosis —

a quiet contentment

emblazoned; settled

into each self.

"... Thank you for

taking me in."

Patience

Tuesday, March 24, 2015 || 12:22 AM

(i don't know about this one... i hardly like anything i write these days)

you have

inhabited all the

spaces between

my breaths — i am

a vessel; hands

encompassing,

encircling, holding,

wanting, needing:

take me. take me.

is anyone there?

i have been waiting —

tenderness has

grazed my palms since;

a quiet song fading

into my skin.

where are you?

i still wait for you.

Just a thought

Tuesday, March 17, 2015 || 11:34 AM

..... I was reading my old posts, and I miss writing about happier things. About warmth, content, bliss. Writing because I cannot contain the joy spilling from my open palms. Writing because of the surges of warmth that spread to my edges and have stationed themselves beneath my skin. Writing because of the feeling of light in my heart. Writing because I am saturated in love.

Hopefully, one day soon. (P.S This does not mean I am not happy now because I am, I am, I am.)

An apology to a friend

Thursday, March 5, 2015 || 8:34 PM

(dayre excerpt #2... i usually just write there now)

I am so sorry — this has nothing to do with you, you are a separate entity, you are collateral damage. You are nothing but an innocent bystander yet your loose parts collide with my harsh edges — they leave rips on your palms.

There is something inside of me that has changed. Until I am healed, cracks no longer dispersed by light, there is no room for you in these altered spaces between my heart and my breath that falls short at your name.

Bathroom poetry

Tuesday, February 24, 2015 || 11:27 PM

you fill

my days

with an abundance

of light — you are

a calm settling,

a volatile hurrying

perched against

my edges.

there is both

fire and still waters

in your eyes.

ii.

two paradoxes,

two hearts.

and one me,

all for you.

This is the third time I am repeating this

Saturday, January 31, 2015 || 8:56 AM

You cannot, cannot, cannot make homes out of people. This is what I have learnt.

Step #3

Sunday, January 18, 2015 || 6:17 PM

I keep drifting back and forth between the spaces; I am trapped in this limbo with both my feet hanging over the edge. I will oscillate between two counts per minute and seventy-six counts per second. One wrong step and I'll slip into the abyss. One wrong step and I'll surrender both my hands to yours.

... I have to admit there is a certainty to this. This capacity for pain already stationed onto my peripheral. Perhaps I am holding myself back because I am afraid to be free. Freedom; what does that constitute again? All I associate it with is a lack of your prevalance.

I feel like I am not ready for that.

Not much left

Monday, January 12, 2015 || 11:05 PM

There is only so much room for all this — this tenderness, spilling from grazed; hollowed palms on to the laps of those undeserving.

Unbefitting not due to his worth: but due to the way he loves you less than you warrant. Your heart is a land and I will not let you have any less than the soil that nurtures it.

.....

I am deliberately prying open my wounds, undoing all the time I spent carefully stitching them up. I am rubbing salt in and letting it tear at my seams.

.......

If this is insanity, then let me be insane.

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