A Thorny Rose
Red lips
take a sip of the evening's wine.
Heavily coated lashes gazed upon her victim.
A man of 5'7", broad shoulders, able to scare any other man with a certain gaze.
He was well groomed, and clearly took pride in his appearance.
His suit was well ironed and he often checked his reflection
in the napkin holder
when he thought Aphrodite wasn't looking.
But Aphrodite was not fazed.
Her hit list included
many men.
Young,
old,
weak,
strong.
None of them
could escape her.
Rightfully so, good hitmen do not let their victims live.
Aphrodite sat up a little straighter,
twirled her finger around the rim of her glass,
and coquettishly smiled.
"Would you like to walk me home,"
she said.
The man leaned forward and placed his hand on top of hers.
"Of course."
Seduced by her smell, her smile, her eyes,
he gleefully accepted the offer.
The man wouldn't know until it's
too late but
he will never return.
And the body he had so much pride in
will be exchanged for crumbled green paper.