Monday, February 5
WANDERING SONNET
The cruelest person we love is the first.
Bad weather is a gift. Rain gathers in.
Nobody tells you how to raise a dark child.
What is worse than an actress no one believes?
In love, the rules are meant to be broken.
You are young and nothing is sacred yet.
I cast beloveds. I kill them off, too.
I am a beloved. I keep mine, too.Y
ou are old and everything matters.
In love, there are no rules to begin with.
Everyone is an actress and is to be believed.
There is no such thing as a dark child.
It rarely rains. When it does, it flows.
The first person we love is just that: first.
(Megan Fernandes)