coffee stains

of ashes and smoke

i was not afraid of darkness
but rather of a candle's lightness
that flickers and sway
with an air
that doesn't even stay.

you came in my four dark roomed walls.
although the surrounding
was wrapped tight in black,
i swear i saw your face dance not in uncertainties
but with wonder.

my eyebrows met in confusion
creating furrows
in your lack of hesitation
to step in this house of dusk 
along with you who seem so lost.

but you said you weren't
and that you decided to go here
i told you i don't accept visitors, my dear.
you laughed and said i was cute
i retorted- excuse me, are you talking with my foot?

i do not know what color your eyes were
and decided to leave it there.
yet you told me your name
and it sounded sweet in my teeth
that a fire—i suddenly almost lit.

i told you i was not afraid
of a candle but of it's fire—
you demanded that they were the same
i demanded that they were not
until you decided to connect the dots.