I'll be home for Christmas

I wonder
If the memories you hide
Are the same as the ones I digitalize
And if you saved the words you destroyed
And if you wonder if maybe I did
And how often I read them
And what I think
Like maybe you're brilliant when you put pen to ink
And maybe I can't possibly let that go
And what I actually want most of all
Is to find a way to refill your soul
With words that always seemed to flow
So perfectly effortless they seduce
Leaving me wanting
The high they induced
I lived to be your muse
And your words were always mine.
I get lost searching for a way
To leave it all behind.
And somehow in the end I always find
This whole time
It was me
Who was running blind.