It just takes time. Oh, wait, no. Forgot to turn the page. It also takes distance. Long, restless naps; staring accusingly at ceilings. Trying to force a fast forward on time’s syrupy passage.
It takes hikes in the desert, wondering if you should find a cave. Start yourself a new little life far from everything that hurts. You set out alone to scream from the mountaintop; only to find yourself weeping quietly at the peak.
It takes cozying up to the idea Of 4 in the mornings. Of grinding teeth when you do sleep; Fending monsters you know well. Getting a smidge too lit, yet somehow never enough to balm the mystery ache that never quite goes.
It takes crying in the bathroom. While you cook dinner. When you fold the socks. Sometimes even out in the street, on a trip with friends (one of whom you don’t know well enough yet), all because you passed an especially triggering mailbox.
But you wake the next morning, more than a bit hungover. Apologize for the burden of your ugliest tears. Dip your feet in the hotel pool. Devour beignets in dark sunglasses, and begin to steel yourself to catch the next one that falls.