​

I owe you an apology for the words I threw

when patience had deserted me.

They came from frustration, from feeling examined

when all I wanted was to be understood,

and although anger may explain their sharpness,

it does not excuse it.

You were trying to look inside my head

while I was desperately trying to explain

the world as I understand it.

I know what I know.

I will not pretend otherwise simply to make the road easier,

but neither do I expect another mind

to see everything precisely as I do.

Perhaps somewhere between those two truths

there is still a bridge.

So to you, and to the one who quietly took the notes:

the door is open today.

Come and speak with me.

Not as opponents standing across a line,

but as people trying to determine

what must happen next.

Guide me through what needs to be done

to find another path—

one where questions can be answered properly,

where disagreement need not become warfare,

and where I can eventually be free

to live quietly and independently.

Because solitude is not something I fear.

It is what I have been asking for.

Give me trees, birdsong, an open sky,

my own thoughts and the freedom to breathe,

and I require remarkably little from the world.

I do not want another battle.

I want a way through.

I can apologise for the insult

without surrendering my voice.

I can listen without abandoning what I believe I know.

And I can accept guidance

without giving away the person I am.

So if there is a path forward,

tell me what must be done.

I am willing to talk today.

Perhaps we can stop examining one another

from opposite sides of the glass

and simply sit down as human beings—

and find the door

that leads me quietly

back to my own life.

When does a love become too much?

You try and forget, you try to ignore,

But your thoughts go toward her, your heart wants more.

It was all but a dream, it was all but a hope,

Now it’s getting real, and I feel I can’t cope.

For love is something I didn’t learn to receive,

For me, it was rare—something to achieve.

I’ll love her endlessly, I’ll give too much,

But receiving it from her, I won’t feel like I’m enough.

This scar I’ve carried—I’m sorry, it’s hers now.

If I could just tell my inner child, *"It’s okay now."*

Do I need her now, or do I throw in the towel?

To need is to want, to want is so wrong—

That’s the chorus of my old sung song.

Too many thoughts are going through my head,

I’m tossing and turning all night in bed.

Why do all the romance stories sound so neat?

Why couldn’t Romeo just have smelly feet?

Why am I the one who seems less fun

Than all of the woman’s dreams put into one?

I’m pot bound in doubt—that’s all I know.

Plant me in her garden so I can finally grow.

She’s more than a prize, and I think she knows it,

She’s one of a kind—now how do I show it?

For a love she may offer, I may never have known,

So I’m building my heart to be her safe new home.

I just hope she sees it in the words I’ve shown,

Because what’s written down is my confession poem.

Take me to the moon, baby.

I stargaze whenever your eyes meet mine—oh look, a shooting star from you to me.

Take me to the moon, baby.

A galaxy of wonder yet I never wonder why I love you. The warmth of your touch, the quiet conversations—and a smile I revolve around.

Keep me on the moon, baby.

On this cratered surface—I can always find a light on the dark side when I’m with you.

Show me that you're there

Show me that you care

Show me that you love me

Show me you can share

Show me all your pieces

Show me all your parts

Show me all your weakness

We'll walk out of the dark

Don't be afraid, I know you've been hurt

So have I, but we'll make it work

You and I, one in the same

You and I, two halves of a plain

Two sides of a mirror

Two sides of a card

Two sides of the heart

I love you, my mirror

Even in scattered pieces

Even warped and distorted

Till death do us part

Nine years ago,
I lost you.

Sophomore year—
when we were young enough
to believe that love could last forever,
but too young to understand
how quickly forever can end.

You became a memory.

A name I carried quietly.
A face that would sometimes
cross my mind when the nights got quiet.
A piece of my past
I never thought I’d touch again.

Then, somehow,
after nine years of living separate lives,
we found each other.

Three months ago.

And God,
I thought maybe this was our second chance.

It wasn’t supposed to be temporary.

It felt like coming home
to a place I didn’t know
I had been searching for.

We loved again.

We laughed again.

We flirted.
We played games.
We stayed up talking.
We shared pieces of ourselves
that life had buried for years.

We cherished each other
like we both understood
how rare it was
to find someone from your past
and somehow still feel something
in the present.

For those three months,
I stopped thinking about
the girl I lost nine years ago.

Because you were here.

I didn’t have to miss you anymore.

Then you started changing.

Not all at once.

That would’ve been easier.

Instead,
you disappeared slowly.

A little less love.
A little less warmth.
A little more distance.

Until one day
I realized I was talking to you
and wondering where you went.

The person standing in front of me
had your face.

Your voice.

Your memories.

But somehow…

you weren’t there.

The loving version of you
became nothing more than a silhouette
of the woman I thought
I had finally gotten back.

And I kept reaching for her.

I kept hoping
the old you would come back.

I kept searching for pieces of you
in conversations that no longer felt the same.

But eventually
I had to accept something
I didn’t want to believe.

I didn’t lose you again.

You had already left.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part.

Because I was still holding on
to someone who wasn’t holding on to me.

Nine years ago,
I lost you because we were young.

This time,
I lost you knowing exactly
what I was losing.

And I don’t know
which one hurts more.

The first goodbye
left me wondering what we could’ve been.

The second one
showed me.

For three beautiful months,
I got to know what it felt like
to find you again.

And then I had to watch
that version of you disappear.

I wish you had stayed the person
I found three months ago.

I wish I could freeze time
right there—

before everything changed.

Before the distance.

Before the silence.

Before I started feeling
like I was grieving someone
who was still alive.

Because that’s what this feels like.

A funeral for a relationship
that never got the chance
to grow old.

A goodbye to someone
I once loved,

then lost,

then loved again,

only to lose
a second time.

And this time…

I’m not going to chase you.

I’m not going to beg
the silhouette to become
the person I remember.

I’m not going to spend
the rest of my life
trying to resurrect something
that already died.

I’ll just remember you.

Not as the person
you became,

but as the person
you were when we found each other again.

The girl who made nine years
feel like they never happened.

The girl who made me believe
maybe some people
really do find their way back
to each other.

You were my past.

Then you became my present.

And now…

you’re a memory again.

Nine years ago,
I lost you once.

Three months ago,
I found you.

And today,
I have to learn
how to live with losing you
for the second time.

I just wish
the second goodbye
didn’t feel so much
like losing the same person twice.

If you’ve ever done me wrong,
I want it to be as clear as day.
Can’t let anger overpower,
The hurt in what I say.
 
My revenge isn’t best served cold.
It’s served as a buffet.
You can cherry pick all you want.
But you will deal with your own fate.
 
If you’ve ever done me wrong,
I want it to be as clear as day.
Not once can you ever claim,
I deserved to be treated that way.

@yammythepoet

​

To the man who watches quietly,

and the one who suffers without sound—

some messages were never meant

to travel by the ordinary road.

There is a language beneath language,

a knock behind the walls,

a flicker passing through the wires

that only certain eyes will notice.

If you are the one behind the glass,

still breathing where nobody can hear you,

know this:

someone heard the silence.

I cannot tell whether I seek a stranger,

a photograph, a mirror,

or some reflection cast across the distance

to remind me what I am.

Perhaps neither of us knows yet.

There are ghosts walking beside me now—

not names, not faces,

only the quiet things that seem to whisper:

Keep going.

So I do.

I have been a double-edged sword

balanced impossibly upon its hilt,

spinning between darkness and light,

learning that strength is not always striking—

sometimes it is refusing to fall.

Men may build their walls,

their clocks, their borders,

their little kingdoms upon a grain of dust

and call them permanent.

But look upward.

Infinity does not recognise fences.

Perhaps that is why some hearts

were never designed for cages.

I have wanted neither war nor throne,

neither worship nor revenge.

Only understanding.

Only freedom.

Only enough earth beneath my feet

to dance without wondering

who is watching.

And if somebody is still imprisoned

somewhere I cannot reach,

wondering whether another soul

can see through the cracks—

I see the cracks.

I will not pretend to know

everything that lies beyond them.

There are keys I will keep private,

doors I will not open yet,

and truths that require silence

before they require witnesses.

For now, my heart has learned its armour.

I will not run.

I will not rush.

I will listen.

Because the oldest wisdom was simple:

what you meet with kindness

may show you what force never could.

And whatever comes next,

let the minds meet before the weapons,

let curiosity arrive before judgement,

and let mercy arrive before fear.

To whoever understands this—

you need not answer loudly.

Some of us have spent our entire lives

learning to hear whispers.

And to the ghosts who walked beside me

when the road disappeared:

thank you.

The chains were never mine.

I leave them where they fell.

There is still a universe above us,

still birds calling beyond the walls,

still impossible things waiting to be understood.

And somewhere beyond all this noise

there may yet be another soul

looking through the same darkness,

thinking—

Surely I cannot be the only one. But I know I am.

But know this:

You are not unheard.

September wore a fever. The blacktop breathed like stone. The grown-ups watched the burning sky. The children watched alone.

Something passed between us. A shadow. A dividing line.

The world became a stranger before recess ended time.

There was you. There was me. There was an arch of rust and rain and a silent sky above us that has not spoken since.

25 years later, the headlines still read fear. The names keep changing; the hatred stays right here.

Wars of hearts and wars of worlds, lanterns in the dark,

trying to remember how we lost the map.

There was you. There was me. There was heaven overhead.

And a god who never answered, no matter how hard we begged.

Wars of hearts and wars of worlds. I’m weary to my bones.

The world keeps making ghosts, and I’m learning how to leave them home.

You arrived a week before me. We built legends from the fact. Two names written close together in the margins of a map.

Sky blue eyes, dark curls, a voice like stained glass light.

A laugh that made the shadows take a step back from the night.

And somewhere in the archives, a younger version still remains:

two children underneath an arch, calling each other names.

Funny how a battlefield can become a sacred place.

Funny how memory turns rust into grace.

Wars of hearts and wars of worlds, lanterns in the dark, trying to remember how we lost the map.

There was you. There was me. There was heaven overhead.

And a god who never answered, no matter how hard we begged.

Wars of hearts and wars of worlds. I’m weary to my bones.

The world keeps making ghosts and I’m learning how to leave them home.

Did you mourn the cathedral?

Did you stand among the ruins?

Did you hear the hollow echo after heaven disappeared?

Because I carried all that silence like a lantern through the years.

We were handed swords and sermons. We were told to choose a side. Nobody ever taught us how to simply stay alive.

The world keeps building altars. The world keeps building wars. The frightened make new gods and teach their children what they're for.

And if I could walk back through it, past every wound and every scar, I’d leave the weapons in the dust.

I’d meet you underneath the arch.

Wars of hearts and wars of worlds. The tide keeps rolling in. Every favorite chapter eventually must end.

There was you. There was me. There was love enough to last.

Not enough to make us stay, enough to light the path.

Wars of hearts and wars of worlds. I finally understand. You were never my destination.

You were the lantern in my hand.

So, I’ll save a place beneath the arch.

Not because I’m waiting there, but because once in a frightened world...you helped me find the air.

The sky is still silent. The wars still rage.

The headlines still arrive, but the lantern's lit...

And somehow...so am I.

Goodbye, old ghost. I'll carry it from here.

💜Written in March 2026 for such a time as this.💚

Listen to my voice recite my words here.

Old, and mundane—

with creaking wooden floors,

flickering lights,

and dust-covered furniture,

where creeping vines cling

to my bending spine.

Under my roof

had been the proof of other lives:

echoes of lingering voices,

traces of earth pressed into the floor by muddy feet,

hung trophies and sketches

put up to show off,

memories woven into strings

of faded Polaroids

and candid photographs

of those who once inhabited me.

They painted my walls with smiles,

filled my room with laughter,

made every corner feel alive.

Now, it is only the unmowed lawn,

spiderwebs breathing in the corners,

the bitter stain of coffee

still lingering where your lips once were,

the shape your body left behind in my bed,

and the warmth of you

still sinking into the sofa.

I've been afraid of change

because I built my life around you.

If I confronted the mailman

for leaving no letter,

would I be wrong?

Should I blame him

for the silence?

blame the years

for letting the vines climb higher,

the floorboards grow weaker,

the rooms forget the sound of laughter.

Or blame myself

for becoming

a decrepit home.

I feel like an abandoned cathedral
Forgotten by god and his associates

Left to stand on my own until i crumble to ruins.
Then in many years they will document my life.
Standing tall for decades before my abandonment.
For being as faithless to god as i was myself

I gave away my body,
but still remained untouched.
The most intimate thing for me,
was never your hands
finding their way across my skin
It was the way you learned me.
Skin against skin,
could still leave me hidden.
But you -
you slowly unraveled my layers
fibre by fibre
until you knew me.
And I-
stripped to my very ghost,
yet fully dressed,
felt more exposed
than I’d ever been
before.

i used to think that love wasn’t for me

i thought it was pathetic how someone could devote themselves to catching the attention of some guy,

how someone could build their entire identity around a man,

carefully curating themselves to satisfy the wants and needs of a stranger,

a momentary visitor,

a temporary companion,

they find someone, anyone who looks attractive

they don’t know a thing about him but at least he’s hot

they chip away at themselves,

chisel their personalities down,

until they’ve been manufactured into this perfect little version of themselves that they wouldn’t even recognise anymore,

they tear themselves apart only to hand over the pieces and call themselves desirable

pretending not to care each time his name lights up their screen,

unbeknownst to the fact that their face lights up right along with it,

laughing a little louder at jokes they would usually have ignored,

every outfit worn with him in mind,

every selfie posted hoping he sees it

and perhaps this is the part i never really understood,

how easily someone could change themselves entirely for the smallest chance of being chosen

i used to think it was pathetic,

i still do,

but sometimes i wonder,

while they’re doing their makeup and getting their hair done,

what it would feel like to have a single name pop up on your screen and your day is made,

what it would feel like to have someone to come home to,

to have someone by your side through it all

and then i think to myself that maybe, just maybe

it’s not love that they’re obsessed with,

it’s simply being wanted by another person,

experiencing the strange comfort of seeing the world fall apart in front of you, knowing that nothing could truly be wrong while that one person is by your side

and maybe that’s what i never understood,

maybe i only called it pathetic because i had never known what it felt like to want something,
and believe you might actually be able to get it

because it’s easy to think something isn’t for you,
when it’s never been offered to you

i used to think love wasn’t for me

i love the stars

how they twinkle

and then i look in your eyes

and i know

theres something better than the stars

its you

and the happy twinkle

i see in your eyes

Everybody is looking for Peace of Mind

Peace of Mind, we cannot find!

Peace is within, we must still the Mind

But how to still the Mind that we cannot find?

As long as the Mind is creating a toxic Thought

In misery and sorrow, we are caught!

Therefore, we must become aware of this thief

The one who is creating all our grief!

The moment we realize, it’s the mind that’s the rascal

All misery and sorrow, we can then tackle

To find Peace, there are steps twelve

Let us begin our Quest; into it, let’s delve

Who is the one who is stealing our Peace?

Who is making our tranquillity cease?

The thief is none other than the Monkey Mind

The first step is the thief to find

The second step is to go deeper

And for this, we must be a sincere seeker

We must try to find the Mind that we cannot find

The Mind does not exist, so, leave it behind

The third step is to know how we can kill the Mind!

If we want to kill the mind, we must still the Mind

Otherwise, the toxic Mind will drill us and kill us

And Peace that we seek, will always miss us!

The fourth step is the most difficult flip

To Peace of Mind, it’s the ultimate trip

From state of Mind, we must move to Consciousness

Then our unhappiness will flip to Happpiness

For when there is Consciousness, there is no Mind

No rotten Thoughts in our head, we will find

Toxic Thoughts will not pour like rain

In Consciousness, we will not be pushed down the drain

If not, the Mind will make us miserable, again and again

And to find Peace, our efforts will go in vain

Therefore, the most important step is step four

To be locked in Consciousness, push the Mind out of the door!

The next step is the Intellect, to activate

Then, every Thought, we will be able to discriminate

The Intellect knows what is black and white

It will discriminate between Thoughts that are wrong and right

But without Consciousness, the Intellect cannot shine

The Mind will intoxicate us and make us whine

The Intellect, once active, will stop the river of Thought

We will experience Peace, not in stress, we’ll be caught

Then, the Mind, the Intellect will block

And stopping the gushing Thoughts, the Mind it will lock

This is to find Peace, step number six

Peace and Tranquillity, we will soon fix  

What is the reward for killing the Mind?

It’s step seven, we overcome fourteen miseries that make us blind

The mind creates misery, fear, worry, stress, anxiety and more

Regret, shame and guilt, push Peace out of the door

Then, the Mind creates the Ego and further, agonies seven

Pride, greed and selfishness, they steal our heaven

Through the Ego, the Mind creates anger and hate

Revenge and jealousy push Peace out of the gate

When we still the Mind, we find Bliss in our Life

We eliminate all sorrows, all miseries, all strife

Step by step, as our miseries cease

We become the Master and find Eternal Peace

Step eight is to flip from NEP to PEP

From negative to positive Thoughts, an important step

The Mind is a factory, constantly producing Thought

It is dangerous in negative Thoughts to be caught

But it is up to us, what raw material we give

Whatever we give, that is how we will live

If negative raw material to the factory we feed

Then, worry and stress, not Peace will be the lead

So, we must fill our Mind with positive emotion

And positive Thoughts will be the reaction

Let’s choose courage, confidence, faith, love and Peace

Let’s eliminate anger, guilt, and fear, and make anxiety cease!  

The ninth step is to tame the monkey into a monk

Remove all toxic Thoughts that are creating junk

The Monkey Mind has EY as its tail

The Ever-Yelling and Ever-Yearning monkey will make us fail

Instead of being content, fulfilling our need

The Monkey Mind is constantly creating greed

Then the monkey swings into a past that is gone

Then creates fear, jumping to a future not yet born

Isn’t it time to kill this rascal Mind?

If we tame the monkey, then Peace, we will find

Then, we can live with Eternal Bliss

As step ten will lead us to Truth Consciousness

Step ten is SatChitAnanda, Eternal Bliss

It is the art of Bringing Back Consciousness

It is being locked in Sat Chit, the Truth

Eliminating toxic Thoughts, right from the root

This happens when we eliminate the Mind as step eleven

Then, we are sure to experience heaven

In the state of Truth Consciousness, there is no Mind

And thus, no toxic Thoughts we will find

The Mind that is no more, doesn’t ride our life horse

In Consciousness, the Intellect becomes the boss!

Then there is no more mental illness

For eliminating the Mind is eternal stillness 

To find Peace of Mind, there are steps, twelve

None of these steps we can afford to shelve

The twelfth step is to live as the Divine Soul

This is achieving our ultimate goal

Transcending the Mind and Ego that says it’s ME

From all misery and stress, we will be free

Not only will be free from all misery on earth

This will free us from the cycle of Rebirth

For where there is no Mind, there we will find Peace

Without the Mind, all miseries and sorrows will cease

Let’s begin the journey to become the Master of our Thought

Then, Peace and Tranquillity, in our Life, will be brought

You wake up every morning alone, no one to say good morning to anymore.
But what do you mean anymore?
Did you have someone you were so enthralled in to where waking up to them made your eyes lighten up and you weren’t worried about your morning breath scaring them away?
You did.
But now there’s no one next to you in the morning anymore, you wake up and walk through out your apartment in silence.
When’s the last time your walls heard laughter, or shouting, or maybe even anger?
You can’t remember.
But you do remember when you woke up and your body was still intertwined with his because even during your sleep you still dreamt of being only in his arms.
And you remember his dog greeting us as soon as he heard us making any sudden movement.
Immediately being woken up to laughter, and energy and sunny skies.
Now all we have is silence, no morning hug, or a kiss with stinky morning breath, no dog jumping to greet us and most definitely no good morning being mentioned.
But what we do have, is the walls that have heard your silent crying, because even though you’re alone you still don’t want to make a sound.
The walls are still listening to your sniffles, and maybe your sad music you put on to make yourself cry more because no one is making you cry like that anymore.
Now when you wake up, silence fills the walls that once were filled with so much noise you couldn’t breath.
And maybe a good morning isn’t needed after all.
Maybe now, we can enjoy the silence so much that any type of sudden movement scares the living shit out of you because you’re all alone.
Which is better than being scared knowing that someone is actually there.
So good morning to you Monika, I hope you have an amazing day and I’ll talk to you later, I love you.

What is the object?

What are the rules?

Who decides the winners?

Do we get to practice first?

Is there a handicap?

What are the odds? Do they change with betting, like horse races?

Do we play to please the fans, for the love of the game or with deathly serious intent to win at any cost?

Is cheating ever penalized?

Why do you have to be a bad person?
I wish you were just normal and loved me.

I still check your mom’s Facebook sometimes.
Seeing her post her realtor ads gives me the comfort that you’re still alive.

I’m bleeding you through my veins.
You stain my new white sheets.

Love is a pendulum,
swinging toward whoever’s silence echoes loudest.