Spot on the Wall

Scribbled under all the paint:

I sit on the edge of the bed. I sit and stare. I stare. I stare at an invisible spot on the wall. 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes. No matter how much time passes I have just sat and stared at the spot. When I look away, there is tears slipping down my face. Time passes and all I can do is sit and stare as I feel the weight of the sorrow of missing you for the rest of my days.