I struck the match,
Brought to life a most beautiful blossom of amber and gold,
Clinging innocently to the tiny wooden stick
That she was dependant on.
I gave her life;
I gave her a home;
She twirled elegantly, radiantly, upon her wick.

A pillar of marble,
Marble that wept at her touch.
Slowly crumbled,
Until a mere puddle was left.
And when my dancer dipped her pointed toe
into the glistering remains of her lifeline,
She was extinguished.

Collapsing gracefully, suddenly, mid-pirouette.
Smiling like joy was the only emotion she knew.
And then gone.
The smile still on her face as she faded to wisps of monochrome smoke.
She was left to drown on her own stage.

I came back to a darkened room,
My unspoken love turned to dust at the absence of her light.
I was left with nothing but a silvery pool of lost life.
My dancer was dancing no more. My lovely golden woman,
reduced to a colourless ghost,
that had melted into the cold wintry air.

She is my warmth no more. I sit in the callous night’s chill alone.
She is my light in the abyss no more.
I am lost, staggering like one cursed with blindness.
She is my dancer no more.