All posts filed under: Poetry; The Love I Gained Through Loss

So here is everything.

The heartache, the loss, the breaking, the bending, the sickness, the blanks spots on the page where the tears splashed , the loving, the breathlessness, the passion, the music, the screaming, the fighting,the learning, the changing, the growing, the happiness, the yearning, the heaving in my chest, the wobbling of my pen, the light in my eyes..

This, is the love I gained through loss.

*A note to the reader:  Should you choose to use my words at any time I am begging you firmly and kindly to give me credit. This is my heart. It is mine only and it is bursting with courage at the chance to share itself with you. It would break to know it has been misused. 

011// Look at me Now

I looked at the pictures she had taken of me in the Garden — smile on my face  — sun beaming And I thought to myself that if I could send any picture to heaven it would be this one “Look Dad and Oma, I shine just like the flowers do”  Real talk on loss: Perhaps the cruelest part of losing a loved one is that I do not get to show them who I am today. A strange form of self love that I have received from them? When I think of how proud of me they would be I am beaming with acceptance and acknowledgement of my accomplishments. They’re harder to recognize when I just think of them myself, at least for me anyways. What a strange and interesting lesson I have gained from this experience. The lessons never stop– for that I am grateful. Blessed really, to have to angels who teach me so much even in their absence. The ones we love are never really gone though are they? Not a chance. …

010//My Kindness is Raw

People say that I will change As if the world can harden me They have looked at me with the same knowing in their eyes, since I was 15 years old As if they can predict that one day my kindness will be all used up it has been eight years since I first noticed it the only difference between now and then is that I cannot be used, stepped on or pushed aside My kindness is as raw as ever.     With Love, Kolina    

009//My Mother is a Shapeshifter

How can i understand what it means to provide a home when i have not felt what it’s like to have two hearts beating together i age, and think to myself that i understand sacrifices willpower strength and resilience without ever having the expectation to reciprocate the way She has moulded Herself to fit my life when our souls were empty she was the river that filled me first when i was tired She would rise as sunshine to help me grow when i was weak She became my energy only to give up what little She had left how did i get here if not for Her She is a fortress  a barricade that rose around me that fought against the world for a single soul the wall that has held me strong My mother is a shapeshifter and I am trying to flow into the ebbs and waves of who she is so that i too can lay myself down and ask who do you need be to be? With all of the …

008// When does Compassion Become Naivety

I tuck the people I meet into hidden parts of myself and they get lost; preserving their goodness in me like flower petals hidden in a book. They are pressed perfectly in time this way and in so doing I am unable to hold onto the ugly. I see only the parts of them that are fragile, angelic and delicate- and I keep nothing of them other than the impression they left when they first impacted me I did not realize the danger of seeing beauty where it does not belong until I found it making a home inside my heart –when does compassion become naivety k.tavares

007// Finding Home

I wrote the first few lines of this poem in a grocery store parking lot in the notes section of my phone. The idea of home is something I’ve turned over in my mind for quiet a few years now and I’ve never really been sure what to make of it. However, in a hotel bed of all ironic places, I think I finally found the words… And so that makes me think you really can’t make homes out of human beings. Because they take things with them when they go. Like the smell of their baking or the sound of their voice when you call them on the phone. They take their laugh and their cologne and the way they touch you. They take the comfort and the reassurance and every answer to every question they leave behind. We settle like dust into the spaces between their bones and when they go, the parts of us that we moved in go with. Humans are not your home. you are. Root into yourself. Dig lower. Plant love …

006// You Don’t Make me Feel a Damn Thing

Show me that there is more That there are bumps in your clean cut edges. That you would rather free fall than let all of the pieces fall into place. Give me a reason to stop breathing , and make me like it so much that I never want to fully fill my lungs again I want you to be wild and all over the place So much so that I could spend my entire life searching and never uncover all that you are I want you to thrill me Be so terribly human that it hurts not to touch you –I want to want you but you don’t make me feel  a damn thing |k. tavares 2014

Endless Possibilities 

Starting a new book always leaves my mind buzzing. The prospect of 200 blank pages waiting to be filled over the next few months is mind boggling- these pages represent the spaces that will be left where the tears fell and the ink can’t write, or the scribbles that try to tie my brain back together as I piece through this ironic and crooked world that I quite honestly adore. They represent something that is learning from experience by creating art, they are the harsh and disturbingly beautiful reality of what this world actually is. They are searching, and realizing, and discovering and? They are me. Wholeheartedly me. I’m excited for what book 5 has in store and as always I really hope you are too 💋 With love,  Kolina 

004// The Artist

  It’s that weird feeling you know when you feel like you get someone’s heart but you just don’t. you know you have painted waves under their collar bones and the trees on their inner thighs  but you didn’t stick around to help them tread water or grow in the sunlight. How can you take comfort knowing their limbs are withering, and dying and breaking while you kiss the life right out of them. you completely missed her soul didn’t you? Eyes glittering though sheets that kept out light and therefor there was no real need to feel. she will believe you. She will think that through cracked lips and vulnerable sighs that she should care. but it was you wasn’t it? You , who with half closed eyes scratched a half moon spectacle into her lower back you that burned so painfully sweet. She was not your canvas to paint. No one asked you to brush your eyelashes down her hip bones, and never once did she offer sugar to tame your demons. You who …