Deadly desires (Patrick Hocstetter)

shedding tears

Days on end spent cooped up in my room, alone to everyone else.

But I was far from alone.

Patrick was there always, taking prices of my soul for himself every chance he got.

Kisses scattered around like party confetti, but they didn't mean anything,....at least not to him.

To me they meant everything, he needed me, just like I had grown to need him, and that meant something.

To me atleast.

I had grown fond of Patrick, his wild story's from when he was alive- him and his friends were some real hellions.

But what else was expected, teenagers in a small town.

Fucked up parents.

It all made sense, I'd come to picture myself with them, throwing rock in the quary and raising hell.

Patrick was quick to remind me that I probably would have been at the other end of the stick.
Yet there was something different in the way he looked at me now.

His cold shallow eyes held the whisper of me.

The more the days went by the worse I looked, the better Patrick looked.

The color of his sickly pale skin now dawned my face, but his, his face held a blush now.

The more alive he looked the more gentle he was with me.

It was like his compassion came back.

So now laying in my bed tangled up with Patrick I smiled.

Atleast he was getting better.