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3/5
You made it just in time,
For me to reminisce.
Looking back through the glass
I vividly see your face.
Your smile
Your hair
The way we’d encase our love
In midnight conversations.
You were
And still are
My love.
Hello, you are so sweet and kind. Writing poems for you make me happy. And the fact that you try so much to connect with me does as well. Specifically, Snapchat. I love when we lay together and take stupid selfies and save them. You should investigate your Snapchat. See if there are any more dumb selfies
  Jan 31 Tamera Pierce
Mims
I woke up
With a clear head
For the first time in two months
Misplaced longing not hiding underneath my pillowcase
For once
I knew what I wanted
And it wasn’t you
For once
I knew I couldn’t keep doing this,
Seeing you
Promising pure intentions
And ending with you curled up naked beside me

You can not make love where there is no love

And I no longer desire you.

For the repercussions have finally pushed me over the edge

I know what I want
One good night of sleep later

And it isn’t you.
For I have slept and slept, but I have not felt rest,
For so long.
Tamera Pierce Jan 31
To the boy who broke my heart before I was old enough to heal from it,
I don’t know if I’ve forgiven you
Though I no longer think of you…
Every now and then, I lose consciousness to your hands once more
And your breath races down my neck,
The pain then leaks into my fingertips, as if it’s home.

It isn’t hard to brush it away, though
Like a speck of dirt on my sweater.
Small, gross, and not worth my time.
To me, our relationship was dirt.
Small, gross, and not worth my time.

Therefore, this letter isn’t too terribly hard for me to write,
But I wrote you to confess that you left me scarred.
You see, your home was my jail cell
Your words my punishment
Our relationship was a trial for a crime I never committed.

I felt lost in you.
You were a never-ending maze,
And I a hungry rat that was never quite smart enough to find the exit.
But…you forgot that even a rat realizes when their search is fruitless.

My old friend, this letter is to tell you that my scars look good on me.
And the rumors that spread like disease once I finally left you
Have built up my immune system.
Filth, grime,
Dirt and rats,
Can’t make me sick like before.
I’ve purged you.
My malady.
Feel free to leave comments or tips on how to improve :)
Tamera Pierce Jan 27
My Little Pony makes me think of papaw.
Weekend visits with Saturday cartoons,
We’d sit in the living room together and watch tv
Or read the newspaper.
He’d whistle so softly that my ears would strain to hear it.
Then he’d fall asleep and small snores left him in
Tiny puffs of breath.
The newspaper lay forgotten in his lap.
Eventually, he’d wake up and try to act as though
He’d been awake the whole time.
“That one is Applejack, right?” he’d ask
And although it was obviously Fluttershy,
I would ask playfully if he watched it when I wasn’t there.
But, overtime
The snores darkened
And the breath more shallow.
I began to listen more to his breath than the show,
And watch the rise and fall of his chest instead of the screen.
I waited on edge for him to wake up.
And he would.
Except, he stopped waking up last year.
His snores evaporated
And his breath died.
And with that,
So did my love for my little pony.
Tamera Pierce Dec 2019
At what point does love become love?
When the butterflies become eagles flying in your stomach,
And your heart skips too many beats?

Does it start when you come together
and your eyes connect like old friends.
your hands meeting like they’ve been apart for too long.
When there is too much distance between your knees
And not enough time in the day to look at them.

Does love come after you’ve carved your names in the sandstone behind your house?
wrote their name on the corner of your paper,
As if they are your new sun.

Or is  love when you talk to them while they ****.
And sit naked to talk
Or after you adopt two dogs,
Begin step-fathering a cat
Begin the process of adopting another cat
And mourning the loss of two pups along the way
All while having a child of your own

Is it when you agree to argue,
because the relationship is so perfect, it leaves no room for anger?
When passion is so bright that marks are left and cherished?
And each day is the first time that they smiled at you,
The first time you kissed, touched, yelled.

Love is hearing that people knew you two were getting together
Long before either of you did.
Knowing what the other wants without even thinking about it

Love is buying socks for Christmas
And not being disappointed.
Buying candles that you both like.
Never cleaning the house when you say you will.

Sleeping with two blankets but never feeling separated
Compromising on the small things
Struggling together for the big  

It is seeing them pack on a few pounds
And wish they would put on more.
Because each pound in another that you can love
And hold.


Love doesn’t come from the big infatuations
the loud confessions on rooftops
Or swimming pools full of rose petals.
And diamonds on a weekday
It is the soft shelled,
Gross
mess
that makes every day more amazing than the last.
Tamera Pierce Aug 2019
I don't want to spend my life
waiting for something
that I'll never get.
I don't want to beg my reflection
to change.
To beg you
to love me.
I don't want my life to be spent on my knees
praying
begging
for something that I don't need.
Tamera Pierce Aug 2019
Soft vibrations
waft through the air and
touch my ears like water on the edge of the pier.
They caress and ******
as if they know that I'm close to shattering my own walls.
I can barely feel them press against my teeth
barely taste the copper laced with sugar as they slide down my throat
and can't even feel them wrap around my lungs.
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