What I said I wouldn't do,
  I've done by keeping from you how I feel about you -
  because sometimes I get lost in my own mind 
 looking for excuses and who I used to be laughing, 
 like I'm an abstraction of who I could be alone -

even though some flings and things happened in the past -
 I passively went along with them instead of 
 dismissing their reflection as my own ignorance 
 and confront the conflicting visions I created 
 for myself to escape being a better self for someone else - 
 who, now that I've found, I somehow still compound 
 issues, I miss you's, and should kiss you's 
 into wishes that you could see inside these lines -

see down to who's hiding underneath,
  afraid to confide in you the truth:
  that after being abused by a few muses, 
  it can be confusing when my heartstrings 
  start playing romantic subtleties that sound like pleas 
    to please be patient with me -
because I couldn't foresee wanting to love again, 
 but then again it's been strange enough to write this much
 just to adjust to saying "us" - 
 
I blame the mental games my pain has played with 
 to prey on an anxiety that my words aren't inspiring or
  heard by you - which is why I preferred to 
  excuse myself into a reclusive shell,
but what I came here to tell you is to dispel 
  any second thoughts with what I ought to have said 
  before I led you down this rabbit hole 
  of slant rhymes I use to buy more time, 
  that are more of a high than useful lines -

I should be more direct rather than expect that
 my implication are clear and to admit
 I'm taken by you - hope you feel it too,
  because this entire time I've been waiting to say, 
  "I love you too"