Poetry

Pure are the senses that dwell

Pure as my heart, my soul shall not tell

Dead of the night
Day dreams are my daymares 
like nightmares circulating my mind in the light of day… 
it’s been days now, why now what’s up now?!
‘Your’ love slips me over pulls me under, 
slipping me under, 
got me fighting the pull, 
don’t let this one slip, 
don’t let me go back, under you. 
My skin crawls with memories of you
I saw your face in my hands last night
I saw you standing there glibly
Why now, what’s up now? 
Who knew through so many moons,
 a blackened heart could still slip through.
 Not tonight dear 
I’ve got too much fight left dear. 
No longer do I flinch when I speak your name 
There is no going back to feeling me, 
dead in the night, you’re dead to me.
Silhouettes of you haunt my room, 
beneath the dark side of the moon. 
With a reflection of a man, I can no longer stand, 
for him my heart bled dry. 
My voice it sings chasing away the presence of you, 
the you of a past I once knew 
Who knew… 
there would be a likeness of a man in a ghost of you. 
Who fucking knew?! 
Forgotten time of a Child

Forgotten time of a child
Time gives to misplaced memories
Distorted faces and places
Emotion sits dormant and sunken
Her heart beats restless and unstill
Frightened by the sounds
Frightening screams as she watches them argue
Isolation became her sanctuary
Silent games played for hours
Living in her dreamland
Living in everyone’s shadow
Her home it shouts to her quickened heartbeat
A home to whom she owed it swallowed her whole
Her heart worn in and worn out
Hiding behind closed doors and under bed sheets
Scared… no one sees
Scared… no one listens
A voice too soft to hear
Drowned out by all the noise…
Forgotten time of a child
Silenced…. no one sees me.
Hightime
Where to go where to hide
I’ll see you Baby… on the other side.
See the tides as they collide,
Pushing back the waves of high time.
High time I’m a wondering, High time is now,
High time is on my mind and it’s you who collides.
Pretending what I’m not, too scared not to say.
Too scared to stop pretending, too scared to walk away.
Breaking break’n free…
Of those high tides colliding n’ tumbling….
So I’ll sit here on this swing,
Go forward go back.
I’ll sit here I said,
Till I’m tough, enough said.




All Words Written by Evelyn Wayde © 2019 – 2020

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