Transposed from Ben’s poem:

Black Well 

At the bottom of the well I gaze

down, deeper into the abyss that holds you

the shape of your body clear 

distinct from the nothing about us 

Your movements mesmerise, the echoing

of your bare flesh against the walls 

of our prison 

make me think of home 

I reach for you

but fall short, my actions more frenzied

as the distance between us remains fixed

yet 

yet 

yet 

yet 

I scramble across the surface

Feeling the texture of nothing 

Caress, splinter, burn and soothe 

All at once 

Returning to inconsistency 

Then I go down

Now falling

Will reach 

Can’t touch

Won’t breathe 

I need

Want 

Hate

Felt 

Your skin, so cold

Be never stilled 

else swallowed by the abyss

‘ caress, a soundless abstract 

Warmth amongst black 

I lie alone, gazing up

Into the dark