Author: Paul Ransom

  • It was like I knew you

    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

    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

    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

    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

    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

    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…

  • Love letter # 543

    The sun was less incisive today. As I walked in your shadow. First sight of autumn. In the full bright of summer.

  • Love letter # 166

    My senses swirl around you. Picture you in minute detail, carve you in feeling, fill the air with your voice. I carry you with me as scent. Memory. Desire. I feel for you in the space beside me; trace your outline in thin air. Even the emptiness, the quiet, the absence…these too are renderings of…

  • Love letter # 817

    There was a line in a Hindi film. How beautiful it is to long for you. Hearing it, I knew. The sweetness I feel. The narcotic scent of it, like a forest. I know that I am lost in it sometimes. That I want it so. Never to be found, always to wander. Never to…

  • Love letter # 553

    Over time, small departures accrue. Mundane separations feeling somehow important. Leaving little dents in me. Rents in the fabric of self-reliance. As you have now done, without even realising. Not your fault, nor your problem. My softly spoken sorrow. My unmeasured distance from the memory of touch. Our polite farewell feels like tearing because it…