Allow yourself to cry, but not enough to wake with puffy eyes. Tip toe like the rain; stomp on the ground, louder than the storm in you. Be the background noise people need for a change. Kiss their eyelids shut. Spend a night on the roof, stand at the very edge, spread your wings. But do not let the wind get the chance to rip those tears wider than the puddle that you have bled. Do not let the pain define you. Time does not sympathise, and if you miss winter, make pretend snow angles in the fall leaves.