Can love still speak its name when pain wears its perfume?
Fierce passion,
hunted with pure desire;
your intoxicating scent ensnared.
Honey words
wrapped me in snug warm wool
while your grip tightened around my throat.
You caged me
within purple and blue;
beaten and broken into despair.
—H, kissed by cruelty and clothed in bruises
This poem follows a 3–6–9 syllabic structure – a form inspired by Nikola Tesla’s theory of energy, rhythm and repetition.









