My Bed

My bed is too big
I try to sprawl my legs out
Reach desperately for each corner
And try to convince myself
That I am fine
But even my scars recognize it
As nothing more than a lie
Your scent still lingers
In the darkest corner of my mind
Your fingerprints stained deeply into 
The stitches of my linen
I often find myself rolling into the divot
You used to call home
And even with the dreams of you
I can’t help but feel anything more than alone
I see your name faded
Behind a new coat of paint
The last coat still remains 
Deep beneath my fingernails
I’ve always had a wandering mind
But every night it finds its way home to you
I wish I could stop the tingling in my fingertips
As I write this confession
And I wish I could stop this shortness of breath
When I hear your name muttered
Into the air of my surroundings
And I wish my demons would stop shouting
That no matter what I do 
I will always be alone in this bed
With nothing more than some memories
Of you