Trying to wash of the stench of a rotten relationship is worse than getting off an ink stain from a white shirt. The more you wash it off your soul, the more it keeps on stinking. You nourish a relationship with love and emotions and feelings, watch it grow… trying to save it from the harsh sun of pride, from the cold blasts of indifference, from the floods of impatience. Yet, many a times, unheeded, the weeds of doubt creep in and plant their roots firmly in the fertile soil of your imagination. It feeds on the false manure of the ego and sprouts. It grows in stealth, creeping slowly but surely on your conscious thoughts, spreading its tendrils of fear deep inside. It stifles the tender plant of the relationship, killing it slowly but surely. Then, comes the flood of tears, drowning the remnants of the dying shrub. What remains is a rotten, decayed pulp, infested with accusations and threats. There comes a time, when one decides to throw away the rotten pulp, and begin something new. But the stench is there. Filling the newly dug up earth of your heart, with pain.
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