Six Word Story - Green HandsGreen hands build gardens, break hearts.
Billy BluebottleBilly Bluebottle was my friend. I didn't even know what a bluebottle was but it was Billy Bluebottle's name and only his name conjured up from some recess in my mind. He was never just Billy, always Billy Bluebottle, exclaimed in one breath to parents who worried.Billy Bluebottle was a grown-up who played with me ceaselessly, always had time for me, never went away to sea or had to rush to make the tea. Billy Bluebottle talked to me. Billy Bluebottle comforted me and accompanied me.Since, I have been asked if he told me frightening things. Billy Bluebottle was not frightening; he told me things, though. He told me now would be a good time to wash the felt-tipped pen from my fingers, or that maybe I ought to read for my homework.I never saw Billy Bluebottle, not really, I was aware that he was there, that he cared. He was there for me when my mind wouldn't stop rushing, he would reach into my brain and s-l-o-w it all down to muted noise that was easier to bear.Billy Bluebottle made
when you touch methere -there, where you placed your handon my hip, crossed with silvering linesbone jutting from soft paddingthere -there, I feel your touch when I sleepwhen I wake, and think of your breathon my shoulder, I feel you there.here -here, where you place your fingerson my mouth, part-open, dried and crackedtongue moistening at your scenthere -here, I taste your fingertipsknowing they have touched me here, and hereand here - knowing they will again.where -where you touch me tingles and burnslike you are made of power, made of firelike you fill me with boundless energywhere -where you touch me will always blazewhere you go I will always follow.where you are, I will always be.
OceanWaters which whip violently aboveare currents strong, yet gentle.Sinking, like falling in loveslowly, almost irrevocablythen - pushing this now-compliant body upwith strength previously unknownto dry world once again, noisy, abuzz.Underneath is peaceleaving behind a world of chaosfor silence and muscular ease.Joints that creak are oiledby the flowing waters' greasethe mind that creaks is soothedby the noiselessness of the seas.
CrashThe sea crashes on the shore, violentand wild, I am a child of the waterfluid and transientit froths like spittle on an angry mouthit shouts its waves and currentswashing over me, washing through me.The sea ebbs and flows, it knowsnothing can stay the sameit frightens me in its poweras it screams, I scream, drowned outby its majestyscreaming with me, screaming through me.The sea rises and falls, fast, slow,rhythmically yet unpredictably.Green-blue like my own eyesvast, almost infiniteit moves through moods like my own soul,moving with me, moving through me.
I Am No SheI am no "she".My voice does not define me.My face does not define me.My painted nails and eyeliner do not define me.What you perceive does not define me.I am no "she".And every time you use that word,you disrespect me. You tell me with "she"that you think you know my genderbetter than I do.What you think does not define me.I am no "she".My fucking genital configurationis my own business, perhaps my spouse'smaybe even my doctor'sbut never yours.My body parts do not define me.I am no fucking "she".Neither am I "he", despite your protestationsthat one must be one or the otherand never the twain should meet.I am "they". "Their". "They're".There. Isn't that easy?Your language does not define me.I am no "she"."She" cuts me, every timelike a thousand paper cutsstinging from a society that seeksto define me as female.Society does not define me.I am no "she".And you should know betterand you, and you, people from my owncommunity, but still... "she". Every time.
When We LayYour breathing on my backis like waves of contentment crashingon the shore of my sleeplessness.Hand resting lightly on my hip,shifting slightly as you dreamdreams I will never see.You smell like warmth and sleepand the remnants of your perfumewrapping me closely like the duvet.Your chest rises and falls against my spinea comforting rhythmic movementof soft heat and soft hairs and closeness.My inability to sleep forgotten,I lay not-breathing, experiencing youat your most innocent and vulnerable.Do not wake. Sleep sweetly, my loveand dream dreams I will never see.