Something lets you know Poem by Ingrid Storholmen

Something lets you know
Something which won't let go
You are not magic to me
We are everyday and don't like it
Friday, and it rains
It rains all day
An orange rain

I want to walk alone
It is spring, and it rains



I flee. Have already fled
You don't touch me, at least don't kiss me, I collapse
There is a bullet in the pistol, the roulette always wins
I collapse
from relief

All ages live in your face
the boy, the infant, the old, the strong, young
I watch you bend forwards
But you don't kiss me
1 out of 6 times you kiss me
Will you happen to kiss me now