I am Your Sunshine

In the middle of the night, the room was only half dimmed. I tossed and turned and tried my best but was unable to ignore the almost transparent ghost lingering indecisively next to the drawer. I shot my eyes and asked hopefully,
“If I stop thinking about you, will you disappear?”
“No, ” said he, singingly yet eeriely, “it’s warm and wonderful and cuddly and…”
I sighed.
“and a hole that fits me just fine.” He continued.
“But I don’t want you here.” I protested.
“Who else is going to fill this emptiness then?”
I don’t have an answer for him.
With sorrowful delight, the ghost rolled on the carpet like a huge potato.
“This. is. nice.”
Emphasizing every word, he whispered in a low and gratifying tone.