Our white sheets were all that protected us

When Christine’s wife walked in

It was like a scene from a French movie

Two women naked in a bed

They are obviously lovers

One was lonely and the other was taking

Advantage of the situation

Christine’s wife draws a gun

And shoots me dead

The white sheets are stained

With my blood splatter

As I grown cold Christine and her wife

Make love next to my lifeless corpse

This makes me very happy

As I make a living out of writing poems

Such as this modest piece of erotika