FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 165

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    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

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    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

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    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

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    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

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    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

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    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

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    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.

  • Love letter # 66

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In the end, it was too much. There was not a single cause, rather an accumulation, an erosion. Perhaps it was merely the result of growing up and apart. Or maybe we got off on the wrong foot, dazzled by lust, sold on the romantic ideal. Reality, it would now appear, showed us for who…

  • Love letter # 292

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It was not obvious. No fireworks. It came on like seasons do. A scent, a quality of light, a change in mood. Next, I turned around, and there it was. All over me. Flowing through me. And there was no way to unknow it. Now I cannot recall what came before. Another world. Not this…

  • I was not worthy of you

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Of the language I was assured, of the gestures an adept. Acts of affection and generosity, flights of desire, sighs of apology…all these I did. But I did not listen. I swore that I saw you, heard you, accepted you. Perhaps I believed it when I said it. But none of it was true. What…