Karly's "Strangers" is about a crush that lives almost entirely in the speaker's head. The only real contact is a smile exchanged once a week, yet that small moment is enough to make the speaker happy. From there, imagination takes over. The speaker pictures holding hands in meadows, kissing at New Year's, dancing at balls, and sharing memories, a whole relationship built from a single repeated glance.
The mood starts out warm and dreamy, then turns sad in the final stanzas. The speaker admits the romance "is not real," and the last line says it plainly: they are "nothing more than strangers." Writing about the love story seems to be a way of coping with the distance, but it also makes the gap more obvious. The simple, direct language suits that feeling. There's no fancy disguise, just a quiet, honest ache about wanting something that exists only on the page.