by Danielle Bongiovanni
This has turned my skin as tender as a pear's. A sigh could slit me open, spill the juice with ease, Pluck my heart like the ripest apple on the tree. You don't even know you have the power, do you? Wouldn't believe me if I told you. Darling, if you made me bleed It would turn to wine beneath your gaze. It would numb the pain, it would taste sweeter Than your wildest dreams.
About the Contributor & Piece
Danielle Bongiovanni (he/she/they) is an environmental science major with an environmental studies minor. Her work has appeared in en*gendered, Apprentice Writer, SpitPoet Zine and You Might Need To Hear This. He enjoys fantasy, horror, and local journalism.