Trees raised their naked, mottled branches to the sky like mourners stilled in attitudes of grief.

But what was there to say?

Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a hard honey-colored shoulder had a semicircle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.

Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.

Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.

When one person is missing the whole world seems empty.

Do the roots reveal everything to the branches, or do they keep what is painful to themselves?

I have lived with you and loved you, and now you are gone. Gone where I cannot follow, until I have finished all of my days.