Regular Strangers

How empty days would be without regular strangers

You know the kind:

The strangers, the nameless faces

That grace the place of your daily routine

 

To be an empath

Is to see the same regular strangers

Day in and day out

To know the time and the place

That they will be

But not who or why they are.

 

I find curious comfort

Knowing that to someone, somewhere,

These are not strangers

But best friends and lovers

Colleagues and siblings

 

To someone, somewhere

These strangers

Are family.

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