Poetry | How Tired I Am, My Love By Nikka Ursula

“How tired I am,

my love.

How tired.

But not tired enough to

forget this:

That I would dig my fingers

through the earth

and lift forests by their roots

just to find my way

home to you.

How tired I am,

How tired.

But I hold on to the colour of

your eyes,

and the slopes of your cheeks,

and the way your palms

cradle my heavy head—

And I am reminded

that I almost rearranged

the entire universe for you.

How alive I am.

How alive. ”

—  Nikka Ursula, The Bad Seed.

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