Taste Of Anger

Wrinkles

My steps are heavy, for I am afraid, 

And it's Sunday, 9 in the morning. 

All my friends are asleep, 

My entire neighborhood is asleep. 

I enter the café silently, 

And then a song by Fairuz starts playing. 

I find an old man sitting alone, 

In front of him a computer and books, 

His color is the color of clay, 

And his hair is overtaken by gray. 

He looks at me as if he knows me,And then he smiles. 

So, this is the person I've been texting with all this time, 

A meeting between a fifteen-year-old girl and an old man, 

What an elegant and romantic rendezvous !

The closer I get, the more his teeth yellow, And his wrinkles increase. 

The closer I get, the larger the wrinkles become. 

He tried to kiss my hand, but i took it away, 

struggling to keep my body away from that body throughout the encounter. 

He says, "You don't have to drink black coffee,It will harm your body." 

He also says, "You don't have to preserve your virginity,It's a societal illusion that oppresses you." 

He keeps saying and saying,But i understand from the beginning, 

This fading body needs my young body to live, 

That the stories on the table cannot restore its youth,Neither power nor wealth can do so. 

He concludes by saying, "I have two daughters, and you will be the third,And I have no problem with my daughters' bodies being seen, for it is their freedom." 

I leave the café, hating freedom and hating my life, 

Cursing my father for not giving me enough affection,Until I find myself in this café today,

Exactly with this wolf full of wrinkles. 

The nightmare of his existence with wrinkled neck haunts me for three years, 

With all his threats and his pursuits, 

Until I wiped all the nightmares of my life.