Erotic PoetryFire in His EyesSome say my end will be a gun.
Some say a knife.
When last I heard "He's found us, Hon!,"
it was a blade and not a gun.
Now if mine was a second life,
I think I know enough of riff
-raff such as I, he'd ice me with
a knife and gun, finding me stiff
inside his wife.
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