It was my words but his blood upon the crumpled page

Roxanne,

As I am sure you will know by now, we are both dead
gone to the dust, to the snow, down to the earth, all our
choices have led us to know that it was his last word
upon his lips that moved my pen that final time on this
crumbled bit of page.
Loss, and lost we both are to have come to these unfortunate
ends, ah the cruel jest that it was all for unrequited love that
made us become friends. As the sun sets upon the fields so
bright, so vibrant, so very green, I pause to recollect what all
of our loves and likes should really mean. I loved you almost
as much as he wanted to. You loved us both, but this is as they'd
say time passed, the ironic view. we have let death take our
last collective breath,
Judge me not, lest you judge him too, This is all we had to make
us have to choose, Now the ground grows cold, my dying becomes
old, I gave you my all, nothing left to lose, let this be my epitaph
to be engraved upon our stones. That we both loved, fought this
fate with all our collective rage. It is my words but now both our
blood upon the crumpled page.