If only sleep would come sooner, so I can curl up in bed and pretend that you still love me. Your breath at my neck, my body firm against yours, you'd whisper how pretty I am, and I'd mumble a protest, too tired to try and deny it further. But then I open my eyes and the place beside me is empty. You aren't here tonight, and you aren't coming any other. I'm lonely without you, but you wouldn't care; you know that I miss you, but you still don't care. I pull the blankets tighter around me, wishing it was you I was falling asleep with, and not a pile of pillows.