It's a deja vu.
The repeated unfastening of heart strings pulled taught by strange bindings.
The unwilling yet necessary trudge to another piece of world where naught lies my heart yet travel one must for that's where a house is; for I leave my home each time to go back into a temporary residence that seems inscribed in my fate to slowly turn into a permanent blot of perfection.
Bittersweet perhaps, and painful extremely - this splitting of my core to go back over and over and tediously immerse into another life.
If there were a detour I'd gladly take one..
Sigh.
Heart.
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