The pace of my fan.
The contours of my curtain.
The cracks on the side wall.
The tree that casts different shadows on my floor.
That creaking sound of my bed.
The smell of my bed sheets.
The reflection of the clock in my mirror.
The chip in my window’s glass pane.
The ray of the sun that peeks through it.
The rust on the edges of the doorknob.
The dust that’s collected on the suitcases.
The colours of the changing sky.
The still water in my glass.
The drop of tear that rolls down my cheek.
Are some things I know too well.
Are the only things that give me company.