An outer hem lines the wider stain of your angst; the pivot-pointed eye holds the other's gaze, as if you both fossilized together long ago.
Perhaps a volcano's violence suffocated you in ash before its lava made a cast of you. Perhaps the ash fell as down from a pillow - slit to ease the blow of your end together at the very beginning.
You desire a pretended necessity - a unity you darn from an absence - when land masses and knotted threads, alone, define you.
