These Four Walls

family doesn't end

i smell like a family

there is drool on my shoulder

blending into the fabric

of my flannel

where i held my friend's baby

and i kissed her head and

her little face

and told her i loved her

and she giggled

and burbled back at me

and soaked my shirt in drool

there is dirt and grit

clinging to my skin

and my hair

where i held my friend close

after so many months of

radio silence on both our parts

and told him i loved him

and i smell like him

a lingering scent of

earth and travel

because for a nomad

the road is their home

but now he is so domestic

and underneath his usual smells

he smells like soap and clean clothes

and while this is strange

i am happy for him

i press myself into my friends

an extended family

ever expanding

i try to take in as much

of their scents as i can

because i naively hope that

i can drown out the smell

of fear and sleepless nights

and cold sweats that cling to me

i do not want to smell like my nightmares

i let them permeate my skin

and they stay with me

even if they are miles

and years away

i keep little parts of them

and they keep me going

they keep me whole

because family doesn't

end with blood

but it doesn't start there

either