His name on her lips

She hurried up to finish her shift, She longed to lay on the grass, face the passing clouds, like she did when she was a child. The city had many parks and mini forests, to her delight, and now that the days were longer, she yearned for that grounding, even though the weather was still cold.

She found a spot between the trees, away from the main path, where she could sit in silence, watching the orange color of the setting sun on the bark of the trees.

She laid there, listening to her heart beating, the birds calling each other from the branches, and she sighed. She closed her eyes, yearning for that feeling of joy.

Her mind went to another direction, and his face appeared, watching her, wanting her, kissing her. She saw the lines of his naked shoulders, so powerful and wide. She tasted almost his lips pressing against hers.

She felt shame. She had no "right" to think of him like that, he was not hers anymore. And yet he will always be, she thought, contradicting herself.

She knew they met at a time that was perfect for the two of them. She also knew her desire and memories appeared only because the time she was with him, was the last time she felt like herself, alive and happy.

She took a deep breath and chased him from her mind. She had her whole life to think of him if she felt like it, and she knew she would die with his name on her lips. She did not suffer from his absence nor did she need to seek his presence now, especially in such memories of passionate lovemaking. Not when she was trying to gain some peace of mind, strength and clarity.

She sighed and brushed him away.

"Go away you son of a bitch", she laughed at his persistance to stick around.

She did not know it but she was smiling. She was always smiling when thinking of him, and a feeling of gratitude for having felt the way she did, was always present in her soul.

She felt lucky.

She opened her eyes, the sun had set, soon it would be night and colder.

It was time to get up, and be someone's mother, wife, neighbor, mistress, pest. It was time for her to take on again the role they would attribute to her, or fight it. Always in relations to someone, never for who she was and wanted to be or to do.

She would come back tomorrow, and lay on the grass, and she would do it every evening of the week. She needed these moments of peace and quiet, where she could be herself, without skills, or faults or appearance. But just be. In a moment where time hopefully would stand still, Hopefully not traveling back to times when she was happy. And whole.

She needed to let go.

Or at least not feel guilty for not letting go.

How do you retract love, once you feel it for someone? Not the kind of love that agonizes your soul and brings you pain and anxiety, but the kind of love that fills your soul with pride and happiness, just for having had that experience, that intimacy, and for knowing that person.

Why would anyone want to even let go of that?

"I will die with your name on my lips, my love" she whispered. "But till then, I have to live".