Do you still love me?

from an old Hungarian song

Is it possible, that you could still
care for this old scumbag
with his baggy trousers and shaky knees,
his multiplying wrinkles in his face
and getting bald all over
except where he should,
this bore of an old fool
who can’t fool anyone any more,
this decrepit ruin
of what could have become something once,
this arse-hole of a failure
with only nauseating sentimentality to contribute,
without any initiative left
and nothing to offer
except the continuing decay
of a worthless body
soon to be contained
and scrapped as any carcass.
How on earth could you still love me?
If that is possible,
then, after all, anything still is possible.


© aurelio 2023
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