You are the blaring alarm,
the cold whisper of fan blades
the first thing I feel
a reminder of the life we're borrowing.

You are the black pen,
the IDs swinging on navy sling
the very last thing I think of
before leaving.

You are the three-pages homework
of five classes
that I would cram in the morning.
You are the two hours sleep,
inside the cab,
that I indulge every evening.

You are the second one
on my Sudoku puzzle,
the scientific calculator
for my course on accounting.
You are the seemingly non-existent hole
of the silver needle,
you are the one I'll always be missing.

And throughout the day
of embodied lies,
savored smiles,
breath-taking laughs,
agonizing hollowness,
you would creep in--
fill me.

You are all that I see,
everything else fades into the background.