Guilty for Telling the Truth

This loveless weight,
Like guilt because I
Do not bear young
Even though I can,

It presses on me
Until I feel like I should feel
Something for someone,

But there's just me.

I feel like weeping
For a man I've never met
A man that may not exist
And I wonder,
Is there only that bright, blue moon?

There is no other for me.

If you lie to yourself,
Is it still a lie?
A lie told in the light
And strengthened by your awareness of it

Does it become truth?

If it does then I'm afraid this guilt I feel
It's a love-lie
A dear, lovely, love-lie
Held tight like a good memory.

Is it possible to feel guilty for being something you aren't?

Because I am not.
And I am.
A lie.