Sonnet For Sister

O Grunge Princess, I know today your love brims over, idle, for the rebel boy like weed you keep, unsmoked, sitting among your secrets in a box; the smells they cloy and force you into longing. Come what may, Space Mermaid, your boy is just a dream. He's not your happiness, nor is the way he makes you feel--this illusion may seem absolute, but first loves often do. I know I cannot sway you with my words; just remember: moments fizzle out, but you will yet remain, just like your box of herbs. When you learn to walk alone in power your enigmatic buds begin to flower