Tag: Krizza Jan D. Ceniza

He came in one morning

through an ajar window.
I should have kept him as my pet
and watch his carcass decay.
I should have cut off his wings

and frame them, adding

to my collection.
I should have burned him—
left him in ashes.
I should have caught him,
fed him to birds,
ended the chase in my favor.
But he knew well to keep his distance.
So he flew in all corners of my room,
sprayed his scent and warded me off
suddenly and without remorse. He just left

as he pleased. But on his way out

I noticed a flutter of hurt and uncertainty

in his blinking eyes.
I should have just warned him away.
When he left, he left trails of honeydew

on my pot of flowers. A reminder of our undoing.

***

Krizza Jan D. Ceniza is an undergeaduate studying AB Interdisciplinary Studies minor in Media and Business in the Ateneo de Davao University.

Tangled bodies and bed sheets
sweaty from the sweltering heat
limbs refuse to move an inch
waiting for the slightest wind
finding comfort in discomfort
for what it’s worth
then the body clock says get up
and limbs untangle
and she becomes a she
and he becomes a he
and the sheets are now just sheets
drying up
growing cold
from the absence.

—
Krizza Jan D. Ceniza is an AB Mass Communication student from the Ateneo de Davao University.

do not bring me to territories
marked by talons of birds you have caged
do not try to mask warning signs
they have left for uninvited guests
I will feel their presence
in every sip of coffee
in every corner of the room
I will feel your memory of them
every word that comes out of your mouth
will be reminiscent of the times you have spent with them
and I will be the uninvited guest
they have sealed exits
laid traps
and left poison for
I will be the uninvited guest
they do not want making home of their territories
I am the uninvited guest
who dares to rest her head on your chest.

---

Krizza Jan D. Ceniza is an AB Mass Communication student from Ateneo de Davao University.

Cut scenes
of smiles and tears,
sunshine and rain,
but nothing to connect
what was in between.
Sunlight touching skin,
and tiny legs,
heavy like lead
from running around,
playing;
heart light as a feather.
Raindrops masking tears,
and frail shoulders,
slumped like half-filled sacks
of reality’s dirt and dust,
trembling,
world closing in
in between—
nothing.

---

Krizza Jan D. Ceniza is a BS Architecture Student from the University of the Philippines Mindanao.