Katrina Smith

Scrambled identity

the pieces to me starts in my eyes , the expressions I show with the blink of my lids ... passion , pain , sexuality & controllable sanity . Then the creases of my nose , control substances inhaled without choice , slow drips when disturbance has attacked the feelings ... lips for days ... soft soft lips for days ... kissable & takable... fake & real pecks that either turns me on or not ... the entrance to my trust ...dry as the desert or wet as a sea depends on the way it’s pleased .... chin , round round chin ... stuck right up in the sky to show confidence .... but then comes times when that round round chin is facing straight to the ground filled with Pain ...