I like you
At the end of a telephone receiver
Or even at the other end of an e-mail I write
So that I can imagine you
So that what’s said can be filtered
Measured and weighed
Against the pain and happiness they may
or may not cause

I like you more at the end of my fingertip
When words are unnecessary
And touch can speak
What heart feels
like the old familiar feel
of your breath near my ear
your hand on my thigh
When things are unfiltered
and you are not
just in my mind

I’d like you even more
In the mornings
At breakfast
Over a cup of tea
With sleep filled eyes
a half baked smile
and absent minded caresses
as if you’ve got
other things on your mind
and you can’t quite see me
but you’re glad nonetheless
that I’m around

Sashikala Premawardhane

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