The candle and the flame: they dance such a dangerous, yet mesmerising, array of movements. They move in intricate patterns, close to one another but never truly touching – the wick sees to that.

As the fire increases in strength, the candle weakens and allows the fire into its core, pleasing it greatly. For a few moments they are in sync, moving together as one whole piece – truly balanced.

The fire dances down the candle and weakens it entirely, forcing it down into a lump of molten wax. The movements between the components seem to only increase in intensity, a new urgency given to them as they head towards their close, their ending.

At the last moment, when the wick dies and the flame reaches its last moments, you think that the flame and the candle will meet. But they don't…

… in their last moments, they are snapped apart most brutally…

I, the flame, am torn from Amelie, the candle, in a millisecond, a fleeting moment which destroys the candle as well as the fire. Never again will the candle stand tall and proud… it is a mess, destroyed with the loss of the necessary component in its life: fire.

Amelie is my candle and I will never forget her… and she will never forget me…

I hope.

Metaphors seem to be the only things I can think of, since I'm writing mock essays on poetry (and some of the metaphors in 'Anne Hathaway' by Carol Ann Duffy are pretty graphic!) so I wrote this!

Review please

Vicky xx