Me Belladonna
He just looked at me; that’s how we met.
Next time, I went there just to catch a glimpse of him. He looked downward and stared intensely.
From then on, he came to that balcony every day.
Ah. What a romance! Like ‘Roméo et Juliette,’ I suppose.
One day, he suddenly called my name. How on earth did he know it?
“And your name?” I asked in a cotton whisper.
“ Love …Ok, I'm kidding you! But what's in a name? It’s meaningless between you and me.”
He shouted it aloud, I was so scared that someone might hear him.
“You are a very name of Love," he continued, "and mine is but a puppet of Death.”
“It's the opposite!” I whispered back. For he was on the balcony and I looked up from below.
“I’m coming down to you, okay?” He said.
Although I was thrilled, I had to reject his approach.
“Never! We can never be together. Stay where you belong, please! Don’t come down.”
But his mind was made up, “I want to get together with you, my sweet Death.”
Finally, he came to me. He plunged from the bridge.
Since then, we’ve been getting along, happily ever after beneath the cold river.