Your Sinhala

I swim alone,

The sea of guilt,

Fighting the tides,

Of thought and emotion,

My gene of expression,

Mutilated eternally.

And,

Every time you smile,

Every time you cry,

Most of all,

Every time you try,

I taste the salt,

Flooding my senses,

Choking me to death.

But,

Every time you speak,

In 'your' sinhala,

The salt turns to sugar,

Sweet sweet sugar,

Flooding my senses,

Choking me to death,

Yet the taste remains.

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