A Continent Embroidered From One Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

I question: is love an illusion
What am I feeling, singing like a bird in a tree
My heart is a crevasse
It needs filling every day
The gap between us is widening
But I can't allow this
The fissure is real on both sides
But our mutual love is a continent
embroidered from one thread
No matter the struggle
We'll close our tectonic plates
Like the cracks in marble
We'll feather brush over all our mistakes
Around a kitchen island, not the Last Supper.