Tender. 

My hands are tender. 

My words, 

My words are broken. 

The life I have lived is only a memory of sin and broken things. 

Rage,  obsession,  fantasy made cruel because of how clever the delusions became. 

Not mine,  

no others.  

There is one thing right in my life. 

The lady I am in love with. 

I am a hero. 

I have saved lives. 

I have loved. 

I am in love.  

I will never stop. 

I could never stop. 

It would be a sin. 

Yes...  I think if I let the love I feel for her fade it would be a sin. 

I have written so many poems to her it is a little embarrassing. 

It is not shame I feel.  

 Not at all.  

Just an intensity. 

Let me give some advice to you poor saps who have a similar problem. 

Write write write

But if you really love her. 

Get better. 

Get better at every thing you do. 

If you flip burgers or tweak the accounts a Fortune five hundred company,  do it better. 

If you are a software engineer or a mechanic, 

Do it better. 

She can be the imperious, the catalyst,  for any thing you need. 

If you have been married to her for 30 years, live 30 more. 

If you have never met her, meet her better. 

She is your muse the hydrogen in your supernova. 

If you know it and you live it,  get better. 

So at this point, you may ask what does my sunfire fire do in me? 

I am a hero. 

~mliarrrr