Belle maladie, you use to be called like that.
I never realized why until we met that early summer.
You invited me for a drink at the rooftop.
We swung on the ledge without any music.
You asked me If I trusted you.
I nodded my head, smiling.
I held you tight, we danced.
All of that occurred just before you pushed me from the rooftop.
Is It vendetta from all the glow of love?
From all the corrupt lovers?
I guess I will never find out.
Belle maladie , you use to be called like that.
I realized why too late.