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.
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