Lucidity

I'm never sure if you were really there;
It might have been, I do not think it was,
A trick of lying lights, or of the air;
Or drinking could, as I'm aware it does,
Have made me conjure you; or maybe just
The sheer desire wafting through my brain
Created such an image, soaked in lust
And fantasies that never quite came true.
In any case, I'm sorry: if you were
With me, then you know why, if not I rue
The fact that even fantasies concur
That I do not deserve you. Either way
I'm too ashamed to talk to you today.