My Confession; to late to speak of. .

She once asked me to answer a simple question; an obvious question that I was too arrogant to answer.
At the time, I felt that an answer was not needed; so I held my tongue, avoided the question, for I was afraid of what will happen next.
Now time has moved on, and it's to late for a response. My voice is muted in her ear; I don't even know if my existence matters to her anymore.
But now, now that I'm older, maturer, I'm ready to answer but no one's listening except the voices of those who never really mattered between me n her.
I confess I loved you, I still do.
But whats the point of my confession if I'll never get to hear her voice or see her face to tell her what she wanted to hear