Imperfect Perfection

I am swimming in a pile of dirty laundry, hungry mouths to feed, and daily minutiae
and my heart feels like it might literally tear in half most days 
no one warns you of the degree of actual PHYSICAL pain you can feel from emotions
because I love where I am and appreciate the blessings I've been given
but in feeling tremendous joy it only deepens the sorrow 
sorrow and homesickness for not exactly a location but people
they had become my home and now I feel displaced
a refugee in my own existence
ironic that becoming an expatriate of a country also alienates you from part of your heart
a heart that feels broken with no true repair because I will always love and miss and cherish you
the happiest days, the happiest moments, laced with a deep pain, like a toxic treat
that demands savouring but leaves me emotionally exhausted

a person can be grateful for what they have and still acknowledge the not so perfect reality that one lives in
I can be appreciative of the day to day blessings, soak in the experience
and still feel the breathtakingly massive feelings that comes from knowing my heart will always be split across the world
never quite whole again. 

So if I choose snuggles with my girls over cleaning, it might not be because I am lazy
consider, perhaps, the imperfect reality
I am trying to hold on to something, someone, who loves me just in that simple moment
without the makeup, without the facade
someone to hold on to so I know that the entire world is not spinning topsy turvy
like the depth of emotions inside my soul