Maya
During the past weeks, I have cried. I prayed, I even bargained with God, feeling so empty and lost on the inside, without Alejandro and staring at his still body on the hospital bed.
Now, I bore holes into his back as he stood in front of the huge dresser, blow-drying his lengthy hair, while I lay stiffly on the bed, wanting him so badly. His unfinished back tattoo, yet alluring, stared back at me.
The dragon. A Chinese dragon he had told me just yesterday and detailed a little intel as to why he took it, ensuring that I understood the claws as well. “My tattoo is incomplete,” he had said a bit gloomily, while we enjoyed our horrible cold coffee- at the hospital, not the coffeehouse he loved. It was one of the few times we got to go outside and enjoy the fresh air for a couple
