Candle Flame

The fire on my face burns and burns and burns like the beacon in an ancient lighthouse just to see you look at me, I hide behind the person in front of me, I know that you were looking, I've seen you do it before, but you've never seen me look back, the fire, it burns so pleasantly, like a small, ginseng scented tea-light, imported from a faraway port, and I know the little flame will never die out.