And those days still live. Those suns never set, not permanently. No, I rise every morning to meet them— the same, the same as it’s always been, eternity’s mists dispelling with each step taken within. It still melts my soul to yours. You’re long gone, but the longing goes on, anyway. The tug to something that wasn’t meant to last pulls me through our being impossible. From me to you, everywhere in-between, those happy days together pulse still, at my fingertips, rippling in each word I put my hand to, caressing every memory with the mystery of what could’ve been, touching on the meaning of our being meant for longing alone. It is nobody’s loss, least of all, ours, that the timing was off— The note we left on holds through every hour’s tolling, the sign of the times holds true in our words.
Garrett R. Bruner (he/him) is an archivist for archaeology projects, processing ancient Greek script related collections and serving as a site archivist for two Roman villas near Pompeii, Italy. He writes poetry daily since 2016 and it is forthcoming in The North Dakota Quarterly. He lives in Austin, Texas.
