Madam and a madman

Why...

To my Madam i am but a Lantern-Light on a pedestal.
She lights me up, then gets the better view.
With mirror on hand one can shine on bellyful,
It's barely cool, for mention such then suddenly it gets very cold.
Varicose veins and a belicose-ache all mate a thunderstorm,
Then the dark is born,
The Danse Macabre after cumbersome sorts
But my Madam succumbers not,
For hellish froth bubbles forth whenever her blood is hot,
Her mouth will boil, its simply best for one to nod.
Lest molten-wax and glass run the dark in shards.
For if it does, it leads to more,
In shambles...Odi et Amor.