Contentment

Stranger

My first name initially means "stranger" or "foreign"

It applies to my existence

Clearly, I am stranger than most people

I ask very difficult questions on the whim

Personal questions, things that need quality time to answer

To answer without hesitancy

In the beginning, when people introduce themselves

I tend to overshare, so that people feel less intimidated

But I know now, that oversharing ends up hurting in the end

When people who used to be close, will no longer be near

I think about how it applies to my love life sometimes

I'm a stranger merely delving into a person's words

Their past mistakes, hopes and dreams

Then they eventually leave

And I expect them to find something familiar

Something that screams that they are comfortable where they were

Would it be unusual if someday

Someone looks for me because

They wouldn't want something familiar

That they familiarize home, with concealments

And what they need is something strange to them

Strange as asking sincere questions

And having intense discussions

Discussions that reveal us

Answers that identify our subconscious

Where we don't pretend to be what others expect in us

Then, when I no longer expect a person to stay and chat with me

When I leave my bench

I end up having somebody come back

To chat with me for a lifetime.

I'll wait.