the snow is piling up around my feet. the breath i'm pulling in is increasingly harder on my cold, wet lungs. if i moved my fingers, the skin would break and slow, coagulated blood would give color to the white all around me. if there is blood left. with blue lips, swollen tongue, frozen saliva, speech is denied. a ragged throat prevents even a sound. freezing to death, feeling as hot as a fever. in an hour, only the spring will be able to find me.