She Assassin

She assassin; smooth and sultry, moves through the night air so swiftly, her straight legs in the shadows moves, she takes your last breath away smooth. A red carnation's her ticket plus, wine spirits moistens her mouth's inhaling her blond in pipe - a payment rendered for her plight. A killer not. Murderer? No. Such words not meaning so - a professional doing business maybe, or protection for me, certainly. For those others veiled in sand, how they kill matters not, she casts them down to the lot, and moves in line to kiss me slow, she hold the hilt of my bow. With her sweet gentle caress she impales the discoverence of death.