To Whatever End 

~

The war is over

and there is a silence.

A quiet,

a resting-peace,

an exhale 

of long-held breath.

The sky still smells

(slightly)

of smoke 

but it's clearing

and the scents of the forest

are beginning to return.

They're standing on the porch.

Side-by-side,

not touching,

not talking

side-by-side, but very alone.

"We won," he says

and his voice cracks.

"I didn't think we would," she replies

turning to look at him,

at the arching curve of his jaw, 

shilouetted

in the setting sunlight.

He still stands, gaze fixated

at the sky,

unmoving

but for his fingers tapping

one - two - three,

one - two - three, 

on the splintery porch-railing:

"Was it worth it?" 

He finally glances at her, 

searching her face—

the cupid's-bow arch of her lips,

the smooth upturn of her nose, 

her eyes like pools of liquid chocolate—

for reaction.

She stares back up at him,

mouth slightly open, 

because he looks so different

than she's ever seen him,

vulnerable, unsure.

And her eyes drop

to their hands,

dangling 

by their respective sides  

inches apart,

miles away.

"I don't know."

She isn't looking at him

but she can hear the slow

long sigh

as he exhales.

He's tired.

He's so tired, so broken.

How hasn't she seen, before?

Before, before?

Before the war, when his left cheek was smooth,

absent of that hairline-thin, jagged scar

that he hides under hoodies?

Before, when he grinned lopsided at her,

so brave, so handsome, so freaking beautiful and stupid?

Before, when she was afraid they would lose,

he'd grab her shoulders,

pull her close, 

so she could hear the quiet,

mingling thumps

of their hearts

and he would whisper, 

"We will not lose.

We will go

to whatever end." 

And he did— they did —and because, because,

the war is over.

And there is a silence. 

And he is tired,

and she is scared.

They have won,

but she fears

she may

have

lost

him. 

~~

Mine's not as good as any of these others, and maybe a little darker too, but I still wanted to enter it. I can write a new one if it's no okay, Admins. 

To Whatever End, Whatever Cost

With nary a sight but the black wing of a crow

Sweeping over a battlefield, speckled with snow

I trudge onwards, hearing my breath rasp out with claws

That tear at me, sharp as steel

I force them to fall away.

Not today. Not today.

There--there! There!

Rage fuels my body, burning embers of pure hate

My limbs, stiffened by an icy cold, find power,

the will to go on.

With each footstep I sink into the snow

And with each step another tear gathers in the corner of my eye

Slipping down my frozen skin to softly indent the field below me

I ache,

I am weary,

Exhaustion drags at me like dark, lapping waves

Yet I find the strength to go on

But for what, I don’t know…

Somewhere, he is here.

I stare out across the war-ravaged field,

eyes tired and dripping with exhaustion

A choked scream escapes my throat

A pent-up cry of fear at what I will find

But I must search…

I must…

I…

To whatever end, I must go on…

Well, okay then. This poem is a little... odd, but... We'll see where it goes.
---
Living in an hourglass
Feeling the everlasting, unstoppable rush of the sand as
Time
Ticks by.
We are in a world where every human face
Morphs and bends daily into a
Clock.
Where every second word we let slip from our lips is
Late
Early
In a hurry.
Time.
We think we rule our lives, that we are kings
But somewhere in the background a
Puppeteer stands, laughing at our
Naivete. Because he knows we are
Powerless.
He lets us play a game, pretending, like toddlers, that
We are the masters of our future
We can do anything.
But he knows he controls us in every move
Because we are the prisoners of
Time’s
Grasp. The prisoners of
Our own invention.
We fly helplessly onward, looking forward to
Things that we may never reach, looking back to
Things we can never come back to.
Our jail cell is invisible, yet invincible.
He ties us don with hour as ropes
Gaggs us with minutes
Blindfolds us with seconds
And the watches our daily struggle with the
Triumphant smile of a
Malicious overlord.
Once in awhile, he gifts us free
Time
And the laughs in his sleeve at the irony
As we choke greedily on the poisonous delicacy.
Free, he calls it, yet at what a price it comes!
Mixed in and bittered up with guilt and longing
And, as everything in our life,
Timed.
Because as much as we like to pretend we live in
Blissful ignorance
We know, deep in our hearts that every made us
Second
Every imaginary
Hour
Keeps sending us inevitably closer
Towards Whatever’s end.

Rampion and Jacob (Otherwise known as Rapunzel and Jacob) 

Falling,                                                                                                You're falling.

I see you.                                                                                                    As do I.

Watch as we are torn apart.                                                                

Wordless scream.

Pain,                                                                                              

Heart shattered. 

That I will endure,                

for you.                                                                                                            

No, don't!

Never to see that light you showed me again.

I love you.

Don't leave me.

Silence answers.                                        

Mother killed you.

I'm here.

But I don't see you.

I'll find you. 

You'd better. 

No matter 

Whatever                                                                                                  Whatever

Happens.

I will find you.

As will I. 

I love you.                                                                                                   I know.