Anaphora

But you didn't know. You didn't know I was a candle that alway relit, one of those trick ones that you had to keep putting out. But it never worked. I chased you through a hall of mirrors and made you stop and look at you too close for comfort and then I drowned myself and put myself out and you did everything you could to light the fire again but it was too late.
Now the matchbook is empty. The strike pad doesn't work. You are powerless because I brought you too your knees.
I knew you were trouble when you walked in, but you never had any idea of who I was; what I was. You remember the time you lit every match you ever met, you always will. But you can never forget the candle that you couldn't put out. You can never forget me, and I hope it burns.

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