Happens to the best of us

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 to the idea
Of 4 in the mornings.
Of grinding teeth when you do sleep;
Chomping at monsters you know too 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 out in the street,
on a trip with friends
(one of whom you do not know well enough),
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.