Tāṇḍava...

I trembled at that tune,

Warned you of my heartbeat,
As I felt Him prune,
Desire after desire, taking to His feet.

He had decided to sack,
My paradise of fantasy,
Nothing to hold Him back,
Love decaying from its apogee.

To His credit, He didn’t smirk,
As he danced to the tempo,
He’d told me it wouldn’t work,
Yet kindly shunned – ‘I told you so.’

I desperately held my heart,
But could feel it begin to shatter,
Implosions within the rampart,
He was at work, was the flatter.

I saw you slip into the crevice,
Glimpsing faces from my past,
I had been knocked off the lattice,
I was, once again, an outcast.