Wearily, I lie surrounded in a sea of blankets. The empty corner of my bed calls to me, beckoning me to fall into it's deep, depressing lull. Hoping, just hoping that I will slide in and out of conciousness, unable to control the thoughts of you. You used to occupy that corner, but now all that's left is a body-sized dent that no other man can fit into. They aren't you, are they? That must be what you wanted, leaving a mold like that. That must be why you're here, you've come to take it back. The grave I created for you long ago still lies in that bed next to me, leaving me curled up, shriveled away from it. Not tonight. Let me sleep, come back tomorrow.