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