FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Your beauty is a form of suffering

    Your beauty is a form of suffering

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    NB: This piece was first published on our sister site, As If You Were Listening, and it was subtitled, A Meditation on Seasons. Behold: beauty in the form of you. How could I fail to notice? Yet, from your embrace I will surely be excluded; and there is nearly nothing I can do about it.…

  • Love letter # 219

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    One year. That is the distance, plus oceans. And more besides. Yet, today is not an anniversary of tears or regrets. This is the memory, stored in the body, of sunlight. Of tastes and aromas and journeys. Of sounds that formed themselves into music. All in a swirl, like an embrace, around me now. I…

  • Thank you & sorry

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    NOTE: Even though the landing page suggests that I am the author here, this post was originally published on the blogsite of R Prakash Rao. With their permission, I hereby share it with you. (Not sure why I was prevented from listing RPR as an author.) And that evening, I waited to see you. To…

  • Love letter # 165

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I watched you…then caught myself doing so…then looked away. For a while it called itself love. Now, clear eyed, I see that it was something other. If I used the wrong word, lingered too long, made a fool of myself, I apologise. I was not blind. Nor unaware. Merely desperate. Hopeful in a fashion that…

  • Love letter # 681

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I miss you so much sometimes. So intense, it’s almost like I’m still with you. Like I’ll walk out the door, and you will be there. And I will melt into you once more. And be at home.

  • Love letter # 753

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Thank you. You knew it before I did. It only matters for a moment. In time, fires cool. If we choose, we may make ghosts of ashes. Burdens, resentments. Shrines. But you showed me how to choose love.    

  • Love letter # 561

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I went down to the water again this evening. Just as beautiful as last night. And though I did not see you there, I felt you. And that was enough.

  • It was like I knew you

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    At first, the common distance. Then, click, extraordinary closeness. Something somehow shared. Barely a word required. A passing of signs, secrets whispered in gesture. It was like you knew me. What mystery, what strange and seismic shifting. In no time, a realignment. Now, bodies in space, we circle. A new physics, a graceful geometry, understood,…

  • Love letter # 917

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I swear, this evening I felt you. The air was your breath, your fingers. The trees exhaled your scent. It was as though the light had travelled from you, to reach me here, to flood my gaze once more. What lovely shadows it threw. Cast in the shape of everything. You never left me. Not…

  • Love letter # 694

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    The light in the early weeks of autumn is nostalgic. The gold-toned afterglow of a summer departed. It feels like promise sometimes, a springtime shine to trick the senses. How often I fall for it; especially in the evening. As though you were still here.