The breeze of a growing summer filters through open windows
welcoming cool waves of air to push away moist heat.
A few brave moths lightly dance around the porch light
rusted in places and cracked in others
The lilies are dying
wilted ivory petals sadly draped across green plastic
I tried to grow them this year
watered them daily
attempted to protect them from the lethal heat
to no avail
Ive been sitting on this porch step for at least twenty minutes
and the sweat pouring down my back
making odd lines against my gray cotton shirt
serves as evidence
I think here
under the dying lilies
surrounded by the brave moths and illuminated by the rusted porch light
I think about when things will get easy
when I wont be drowning
in sea of things I cant control
My hair is sticking to my forehead
and my mind wanders to crimson veils and red tent dresses
with pictures for words and a world where all is forbidden
blessed be
or praise be
or the lines where fiction and reality blur and you feel trapped either way
I chose the path of fate and foreshadow 
constantly questioning some sort of dark fate looming over me
and shaking my fist at a black and cloud covered sky
As the stars are sleeping and do not wish to be disturbed
I could wish upon my rusted porch light
for relief
Its not the way of things