There was only one rule,
And it was pretty simple,
You can't utter "I", "Love", and "You",
Altogether.

I asked her why,
The first time she was in my arms,
She never answered,
Instead she smiled,
And pecked my lips,
Suggesting I should never ask.

She said it keeps her from having bad dreams,
So she always kept a knife under her pillow,
But I would still find her writhing at nights.

Some mornings I would find her,
Standing on the rooftop,
Watching the sun rise.
She would look like those willow trees,
Poets talk about,
Gently swaying with the music.

Gently swaying with the music,
And weeping.

Some evenings I would find her sitting,
On the Ghats of river Ganga,
Watching evening prayers,
Her open hair fluttering with the wind,
Like flames you'd worship deities with.

Sometimes her eyes looked like,
That it's her who was aflame,
And not the camphor.

The nights, when we say nothing,
I keep listening to soft breaths,
Against my neck,
Her eyes always staring at the distant future,
Or maybe past,
that I'll never hear of,
While her tender finger keeps drawing,
What it seemed like infinity,
Over and over again,
On the bare skin over my heart,
As if she's trying to cast a spell of forever.

There was only one rule,
And it was getting tough,
I can't utter "I", "Love", and "You",
Altogether.
And if I do,
Maybe it would break the spell she'd been casting.

Yet she winces on the word "forever",
When I tell her I wish to be with her forever.

So I tell her that I love every time she smiles,
I tell her that I love the way she hums my favorite songs,
I tell her how she looks so poetic,
And I could write thousand poems on her,
I tell her about the books I love,
And I tell her I love it when she reads them all,
I tell her I love her hair up,
I tell her I love her hair down,
I tell her I love her smell,
I tell her I love every small thing she does,
I tell her I love her except telling I love her.

There was only one rule,
And I thought of breaking it,
I uttered "I", "Love", and "You",
Altogether.

Maybe it really broke the spell,
Maybe the knife really wasn't for the nightmares,
Maybe this is the pain that she never spoke of,
"no, you don't", she whimpers.

There was only one rule,
Just one.