I can’t seem to help myself from burning things

I am writing in my blue book for you
secrets I’ve kept all along
terms of negotiable contact
I am a hider, a silent stepper
I spend all the days
knowing the contents of your thoughts
and his and hers, and hers
because it’s easier to blame

just like everybody does

every time I remember your name
I carve it into the wax
but it always melts, you know