What I miss

No, I don't miss my friends,
Who were always there for me
In our simple world.
So distant it seems now,
Our laughters, our stories,
and numerous debates.
And even more so,
The sweet smell of sweat after long days,
And late night walks on deserted streets.


No, it's not what I did that I want back,
Skipping classes and lectures?
Living in the WALA, GODA, BUS or APAYA,
With bent necks and red eyes,
A week before the finals?
Nor is it all the posters we drew,
All the lanterns we made,
The meetings! Campaigns!
Or any other events we did.

I dont think it is,
The tireless hearts or the feather-like soul we shared.
Or my only dear possession,
The Sony Ericsson, with its camera.

Misty Ambewela,
Dark green Sinharaja or,
Windy Anuradhapura,
There are plenty alike here,
If compared in a geography book, it is.
So no, I do not miss them either.

Yes, I know what it is,
That's sunk in my heart,
Making it heavier everyday,
It is just me I miss,
who I used to be.