Ambiguity

I feel ashamed, sometimes, that I

have loved. I feel ashamed that I have been

an intemperate fool, when speaking or silent, I

realize now that all those hours I spent

silently looking at your were just folly, now. I

now know I was perhaps wrong.

I wasted my life, chasing the

things I, perhaps, did not want; or, perhaps; I

did and am lying to myself. There is no answer. I saw

you in my arms in a dream and was lost

for ever. Was that a lie? That is a question you

answer. And lie, or truth, how much of

it?