unyeilding hate

the cold is creeping in,
leaving me here,
against it-useless.

i can't understand,
warmth entered just a minute ago,
but now that's gone amiss.

why i even feel chilled
is a question unto itself,
as it leaves me the mocking kiss.

balmy frost spreads,
i cannot stop it,
and i'm stiff as glass.

yet all i feel is consternation,
a bit of doubt,
and sadness.

what is "it"
but an embodiment of myself,
the forever critic-ruthless.

and now i sit,
looking at this poem,
understanding naught of this game of chess.

so as saltwater falls upon my cheeks,
i wait in silence,
till the coming of peace-hateless.