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Love.

Silence, as we were driving home,
Trying not to show our emotions,
Realising it was make or break,
Unaware of the power this bump caused
Grasping at any opportunity to fix things
Growing more impatient waiting to talk
Love, a rollercoaster of
Emotions

Love

Strong bonds, forged through
Trails we endured, a strong sense of
Regret flowed, shame, embarrassment
Envelop me, but you showed forgiveness
Giving me a second chance, as tears
Navigate the contours of my cheeks
Thanking you continuously, feeling like
Hell has released me and let me live

Love

Have we forgotten where we started?
Always looking at the future
Politely navigating life’s challenges
Policing our own feelings to not upset
I will never forget the kindness you had
Never wavering or repeating the mistake
Every day we spend together we grow
Showing solidarity, strength and support
Slowly building the blocks of our life

Love
Ryan Blakeman Apr 2020
The father, the daughter and the sons,
All huddled together,
Each trying to protect the others from Azrael,
We knew that this particular apple had been rotting for years,
It was only a matter of when,
And today was that day,
The apple plummeted to the ground and hit the floor with an almighty thud,
Smashing as it hit the ground.
Azrael bent down and took the pieces,
He looked me in the eyes and smiled.
It was strange, not a wicked smile as I would have thought Azrael to have.
But an apologetic smile.

I watch as the apple was taken up to the sky, and my gaze lowered back down,
The sun had faded and the moon now as bright as the eyes of the lost.
The huddle had faded, and left was a son and daughter,
Together,
Comforting each other
Not letting the memories fade.
Suicide Trigger warning
Ryan Blakeman Apr 2020
Slumped against the wall,
In just a second, my life had been flipped upside-down.
Wails from my sister as she gripped my shirt hard.
The tears staining like water drops on an oil painting.
Looking up from my now squatting position
I see the creature,
Tall, black, and winged, descending down to the track where it happened.
I remember,
Memories passing by at the speed of light,
I always thought that your memories only flew by,
When you yourself met Azrael
Yet here I am,
Blind to the world around me,
Trying desperately to cling to the memories of her
So the angel couldn’t take them away as well.
The tree our family protected had always bared five apples,
But now, one had fallen.
Dropping like a swallow, diving for it’s food.
The cold hard floor seemed almost comforting now. The flap of his wings, causing the tree to shake,
But the other four apples are firmly attached,
each connected to a thick branch,
Each still alive.
All rooted to the spot, unable to move.
Suicide trigger warning
Ryan Blakeman Apr 2020
I find myself, Shrunken into the chair
Moulded like play-doh
Sat after a long day,
Trying to forget the days occurrences,
Finally relaxing as if Nyx had grasped me.
Staring ahead,
As if trying to see life’s meanings,
A creature,
No bigger than a shiny pound coin,
Lowers itself into my line of site,
It’s eyes, locked on mine,
As if it was trying to communicate.
The long silky thread from which it hangs
Shimmers in the moon light,
Then Suddenly:
A Screech,
Blue Flash,
Scream.
What once was a room filled with peace and tranquillity
Was now controlled by Eris

I rise from the chair,
so slow that every creaking join echoed,
The forest nymph creating ripples in the silence.
I take slow steps towards the window,
The steps somehow booming
Above the chaos outside.
As the window edges Towards me,
I see the Carnage:
The crowds,
The Sceams,
Then
...
Silence.
...
As the people leave the house,

All the while,
This creature remains,
Unfazed by the Chaos,
Weaving it’s beautiful web,
As if Athena herself was sat opposite.
Ryan Blakeman Oct 2017
Dear straight people,
whilst you are happy holding hands with your partner,
there are people hiding their feelings for the person they love
because of the steel gaze of passers-by,
and because of words ripping through their skin like bullets as people jeer and jest.

you are the reason we are trapped in the closet.
On the daily teens are faced with protests, murders and fiery screams of condemnation for holding hands with their partner,
then see stories of a man who married himself and a woman who married the Eiffel tower. They had no shrieks of hell, no sour protests.
Leaving us wondering---
“Is it just me?”,
“Am I a freak?”,
“Is it really just a phase?
We retreat to our cast iron chamber that is the closet,
waiting for “This phase” you keep talking about to pass.

whilst you are busy planning proms, going out on dates and hanging out with friends,
there are teenagers sat crying,
because they are too afraid to leave their room,
they are made to feel unwelcome in their own home.

whilst you are busy reporting on Donald trump’s rise,
Kim Kardashians latest dress
and even Burnley’s championship win.
There are stories that will never be told.
Stories like the fact that 40% of LGBT have attempted suicide with 34,000 having had succeeded this year alone,
that’s almost enough to fill Stanford bridge. But of course, we only care if they attend “Oxbridge”
Dear straight people,
we care,
we matter,
we live,
we love.

— The End —