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.

 

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