the man that offers the life

"I told you that I died every day."

for the suffering, the tears and the scars.

"I did it every day too." 

"the death?"

"no, the life. I try to live every day."

"but it hurts, to life. Day by day surviving is exhausted."

He nodded as he grabs my wrist.

"just breathe, day by day just breathe."

he draws flowers on my wrist, so they will bloom and stay for a long time.

So there's no more space for the scars.

"what if the flowers withered and buried feet under?"

"your wrist will be their land for a decade. They will always grow again."

For the pain, "what if the pain never disappears?"

"so let it stay, just let it be."

"it just a matter of time, so let it be,"

he answered my what-ifs as it was obligated. 

I have always been a dusty box in an abandoned house, a silent witness to tragedy. Then he opened it.

"recite me those pains, and those tragedies." I'll listen forever.