if my heart were a well,

it would be deep.

during the day i would go about my life

but when it would turned dark, trying to sleep

i‘d sit by the well

staring up at the lights strung up on the ceiling you call the night sky

and i would grow aware,

aware of the hollowness

and suddenly i would thirst for a cool drink

my throat becoming itchy, i’d try to fill the well

stumbling through the black world

bucket after bucket, my arms growing tired

it seemed that while i had poured gallons,

the well wasn’t full, not even close

for if my heart were a well,

it would be deep.

but always, infinitively

empty.