Freckles

I sat in the bar,
across from a man I’ve seen a few times.
I remembered his nice eyes,
the mixed-matched hair and beard combo.

I recognized your freckles
on a stranger’s face.
I remembered what it felt like to feel home,
to feel your presence when your absence
made me question our friendship.

What does loving you feel like?
Those freckles are a memory of a homecoming
we always wanted to have,
a wink at what familiarity can become.