Certain Tragedy

And now I finally see that the further we go
we're only treading ground that we already know.
I could write you a song, send you a note,
or empty out your trash
and buy a bucket full of LOVE
but even the most beautiful of all roses must someday crumble to dust and fade away.
It's certain tragedy.
So it's
on into the lonely nights
and all the rest
of it the empty space between me and the sunken walls
and feeling someone's hand around my neck
choking away the life that I have left.
And I can finally see that the further I go
I'm only treading ground that I don't want to know.
I'll probably hang upside down from wooden rafters in my home
and look at old photos of you.
I miss the warmth of the summer when we were on our own,
but now it's winter and my bones are cold.