Distance Is The Mean

What is the sign beside the road that makes
the line dividing states of love as clear
as sigils blessed in your taxonomy?

I wonder what it is that bleeds the tease
of care into a lake of nothingness
if wayward love departs its flimsy scene

And are the ways to best express this grate
between the states of ‘love’ and ‘not love’ clear?
They’re not I fear – and never ever were

If there’s a border edge between the love
I bear for you and that expressed as not
a disaffection then where has it gone?

The cues are spare and far between because
you flew away; if distance is the mean
today of comfort’s share – an answer’s there
© 19 September 2009, I. D. Carswell