Tag: Krizia Banosan Garcia

everything is still
the sun takes forever
giving the passing cars
a chance to stir the room
and my imagination
with their lights
i turn away
escaping yet failing
seeing the yesterdays
i look to my right
and there you are
sleeping beside me
i look away
and there you are
making your way to the bathroom
i sit up
and there you are
smiling at me from some time ago
i close my eyes
and i feel your lips touch mine
i open my eyes
everything is still
the sun takes forever
giving the passing cars
a chance to stir the room
and my imagination
with their lights

—
Davao born and raised, ex-architecture student at Ateneo de Davao University, currently out of school yet again.

you trace my life with your finger tips
you slice through my defense with your words
you guide me with your eyes into the deep
so i would drown and taste death on the tip of my tongue
while you argue with yourself if i’m worth reviving
you are the wonderful poison running
zooming through my veins at the moment
the sweetest pain of a passing day
a destructive force that keeps me intact
and straddling between reality and fantasy
a chorus that bends my bones with every note
an infinity that could end in a few more blinks
uncertainty and a promise
you are everything and nothing specific
a pool of limitations and possibilities
with sprinkles and spiders on top

Krizia Banosan Garcia is a regular contributor to this page.

limitless, yet limited.
i’m back to my one-two beat.
lips sweetly bruised,
i’m at the best location
at the almost perfect hour
the moments of which
i don’t really remember.

your heat
and the firsts of many things
and nothing new
are what make this summer sizzle

and what put summer’s tears
to utter shame.

—-
Krizia Banosan Garcia makes the most of life being a tambay.

you sink in and inhale my hair
the smell of after-a-kiss cigarette smoke
welcomes you to a mistake.
my arms adore you
love you to the last scar.
in loneliness, anyone staying over will be just fine.
yet in love, in love i’m alone.

i live in your confusing cycle
and you live in your world-
of smokes, liquor, and satisfaction.
i bend to your expectation
until i snap, crack, and break-
into your arms.
bracing for jealousy
uncertainty,
and the end.

Written, scribbled is her name
on your filthy white-washed walls.
i beg no explanation.

your walls that surround me, bathed in her name,
engulfs me in pain and hatred.
i wish to unravel your mind,
for her name is not enough to make me bleed.

i’m thankful your room is your hell.
we can start afresh with my white-washed walls
that never witnessed any of your melancholy.
we can turn it into your heaven and paint
diamonds and Lucy’s kaleidoscopic eyes on the ceiling.

write, scribble your name on my walls.
and when you leave me,
i will taste the hell you have tasted
by sleeping with names
written by someone now a memory.

—-
Krizia Banosan Garcia graduated from DRANHS’ acceleration program called ALS, finishing elementary two years ago and high school last year.

the flickering lights
allow a momentary glimpse
on the sea of unfamiliar faces

his eyes, utter innocence,
his smile, wicked.
this stranger
touched my face
and i knew–
it was he I had been
warned about.

he hides and lingers
leaves and stays —
in the darkest of nights, he plays
with someone’s heart,
between someone’s legs.

he made me see.

and the next thing i knew
he was gone.

Continue reading Mi No Se Mencionan

out of thick nothingness
you come forth
and strip me bare.
i adore the tears you make me shed.
i despise your guts,
and your pretentious innocence.
my thoughts lick you when midnight awakens
while you play beneath other women’s sheets.
bitter, bittersweet you fall upon me.
my mind chokes you to your sweet death.
i lie for hours as my thoughts skin you,
and taste your flesh.
upon my weary eyes you melt, helplessly.
i’m masked by my deceptive defense,
but you are the sole reality
that brings me to my knees.
you cleanse me when i am clothed with filth.
out of thick nothingness
you come forth
and strip me bare.

Continue reading Papercut

when our eyes meet
you stab me.

i see you indulge in whatever,
but you never notice the agony
that flows from my eyes.

time wishes to banish our insanity,
and our existence from each other.

you tend to forget about me,
while i pretend you never saw my heart.

i convinced myself i have forgotten your scent,
the taste of your lips,
the feel of your hands
even though i know i never will.

i was reconstructed by you
bitterly insane is what you made of me.
i was reconstructed by you
to never be held down by anyone—
but you.
to move as if i’m free
even though there’s a chain around my neck
with the other end attached to your ankles.
i was reconstructed by you
to forever dwell within this abyss of sorrow.

Continue reading 59 Beads