Home smells like ****
And lavender and jasmine smoke
Heady and warm and welcoming
Home tastes like coffee and ***** seltzer
Tempered by cool water from the tap
The broke bitch's daily festivities
Home sounds like rock music and obscure indie songs
And old jazz on college radio from two campuses
A strong beat to dance to and lyrical sounds to compell your soul
Home feels like the fabric of my Goodwill bedsheets
The ease of my beanbag chair, another luxury I spent for
Soft and welcoming away from the world that shuns my kind
Home looks like the ripped out communist punk pamphlets
The pride flags that grace my walls in beauty
Reminding me of my own strength, keeping me safe
Home is what I have made it
Through the mad run in the dark and my own heartbreak
To a place where I am free
Home is my chosen family
The ones that treasure me for who I am
Without clause or abuse
Home is the arms of my lover
Watching the same show we already know
Even mundanity is treasure with them
Home is what I have fought for
A place where I can be myself in peace and safety
A place where I am found