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“The way a relationship dies between a man and I has always been insidious of sorts. It’s like sometime last year or a few years before. The love develops gangrene. The man either doesn’t love me or care enough to apply antidote to prevent further decay. So it decays. Before he knows it. The love is dead and I’ve already buried us. The thing with gangrene is if I seek treatment, I can only stop it from spreading by cutting the gangrenous part off. Like the love I once felt for him. I am now confused. But you get the drift.” — Crystal Evans
The way a relationship dies between a man and I has always been insidious of sorts. It’s like sometime last year or a few years before. The love develops gangrene. The man either doesn’t love me or care enough to apply antidote to prevent further decay. So it decays. Before he knows it. The love is dead and I’ve already buried us. The thing with gangrene is if I seek treatment, I can only stop it from spreading by cutting the gangrenous part off. Like the love I once felt for him. I am now confused. But you get the drift.