I am the flame.
A fragile tethered light, hungrily lapping at the ever-shrinking candle. A soft corona lost in the darkness.
Darkness that doesn’t see me.
The flame’s said to draw the moth. Consume it. But in my world, nothing exists, moves, without you.
You are the breath of life. A whisper. A hurricane.
You tempest; I snuff.
You gently exhale-
I vacillate. Curtsey to waning wax.
Revitalise me or extinguish.
Wick glimmer-glows vibrant orange in that last gasp of oxygen.
Smoulders. Curled ribbons streamer upwards.
You are my match.
Ignite me with attention’s friction.
Feed me with a kiss.