Look around,
feel the beat.
Tie the knot,
own the heat.
I see you,
You see me.
Across the room,
where we'll be.
Make a move,
snatch a chance.
Feel each other,
at first glance.
I'm a wreck,
hard to please.
Yet with him,
I'm at ease.
He's so cautious,
ready to run.
Hearts have broken,
heads have spun.
Even so,
we still see.
We have hope,
love is key.
He sees me,
I see him.
Looking so deep,
never skim.
Take his hand,
say 'Hello'.
Open your eyes,
just let go.
Keep her warm,
hold her heart.
Open your eyes,
a fresh start.
About the Creator
Sascha Smith-Allum
New to this. Always written since a young age and never thought of a place to make them public.
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Anxious Cigarettes
I was twelve years old when I finally stopped sucking my thumb. I did that on my own. My mum had tried multiple techniques; mustard, nail biting prevention liquid, shouting at me, confiscating my blanket. Yet, all the while I felt the need to rebel and continue to self-soothe by sucking my thumbs, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my index finger and inhaling the familiar smell of normality from my blanket (Which my dad would call my “smoke filter”). The sensations that satisfied the olfactory system helped me through a lot of stressful years, so of course I would never stop just because I was told too. I had to, and did, stop in my own time; when I was ready.
By Sascha Smith-Allum4 years ago in Families
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