i.

                               Tonight is different.
Genevieve pauses, staring as layers of fog encroach forward.  The ominous mist slinks onward only to settle against her taunt muscles.  Vapor coils along her skin like venom; tangible and prickling.
She allows her lungs timid inhales of February.  Every breath sparks artic shockwaves throughout her nervous system    Glacial streaks start to sprout within her tissues, ever-so-silent and sickening.  She slows, listening to iced-oxygen hardening between blood cells.

                     The cold feels like boulders in my lungs.
Genevieve feels so unexpectedly heavy in her skin.  Wading through the congealed midnight mist becomes arduous, a task difficult and necessary.  Unwilling muscles contract in unison, unconsciously clenching for heat.  Genevieve shudders, shivers rippling out from her shoulder bones.

                     There had always been a choice, even now.
Pink puny fingers flex against frozen palms, clenching in an attempt to force the shivers from strained phalanges.  Still convulsions continue quaking out from tensed flesh and into perspiring fists.  Her every fiber aches; stiff, taunt, but still freezing cold.

                          A whisper, an echo.  Maybe a nightmare.
                              (  blood  is  thicker  than  water  )
It is there, beneath the softening jaundice glow of streetlights, that she chooses to submit.
She finally gives in, succumbing to the pulsation of persistent tremors.  
And for the first time in a long time Genevieve is unsure of herself.                                                                                                                                



ii.

                       Sometimes we were the same person.
Samara looked to the stars, hypnotized by fireflies caught in a glass ceiling.  Flickers that flared within infinite layers of obsidian cellophane.  Samara was silent.  A timid breeze unfurled from the atmosphere, flitting across the treetops and reaching for her skin.  It felt lithe; delicate.  Soothing as it kissed betwixt her fingers.




iii.

Michael loved her, the girl with elusive eyes and vaporized emotions.  Julia.  But sadly,
Michael also enjoyed swallowin' a few too many.  And most of the time, he couldn't decide which he loved more.  Sloppy compliments would spurt from his split lips.
             Julia's eyes are grey, but they used to be silver.
And sometimes, he didn't really know.  He had truly forgotten she was gone.