FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 521

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    If forced to say it aloud, I would say that I did not need you. Did not love you. Nor even want you. Yet, in these absences, space for something undefinable. This ineffable attraction, the desire that will not be reduced to its description. Here now, the mystery that draws me to you. The love…

  • To Eleanor. To all of you.

    To Eleanor. To all of you.

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    We met at a café and got talking. Then, as one long black turned into another, your story came out. Easier to tell a stranger. Our friendship lasted less than two hours but your words – your resignation – came home with me, where they have sat in my heart like a ring of thorns.…

  • Love letter # 667

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    The bells may not have rung for us, yet you will chime in my memory, like a wave beneath my skin, subtle and buried, but still there. Though you will likely forget, I will house the archive of tender seconds in the sediment of passing days. For the briefest moment I saw you and shed…

  • Love letter # 510

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Time and separation make little difference. You are burnt into me. What looks like perfect skin to others is the mask of your presence – the burnished shell of your departure. I have been shaped by the hand of our union. I still keep the secrets you whispered, and walk as though we remained in…

  • She reminds me of you

    She reminds me of you

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Some things are known before they are known. Like winter; and the logic of its freeze. I felt her retreat before I saw it. Inching back from intimacy and the fear of being seen. That’s why I’m writing to you. Because you understand. There is no need for detail; save that her wounds once bled…

  • Love letter # 777

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Nothing is owned. All is given. Or taken. The look in your eyes last night said as much. You once told me that what you wanted was to be heard. Well, you have been. All without saying a word. I realise there is no score, no account to be balanced, only the play of human…

  • Love letter # 550

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    So here we are on the brink of remembering. Serene progress interrupted. The flutter of ancient butterflies. The nausea of wondering. The waves of your passing. I am leaning, not falling – but enough to sense the up-rushing impact. The rupture. A fresh, hairline break in a heart long stilled. As though a spring storm…

  • Love letter # 677

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Desire is a mystery I do not pretend to understand. How is it that we can have such an obvious and emotional connection, and be so close, and yet you look right through me? Once, I would have tried all manner of contortions to build a fire. Now I do not burn. Simply sigh, shed…

  • Love letter # 598

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    For a minute I thought perhaps I was in love with you. On reflection, I am simply becoming addicted to your attention. It has been an age since anyone attended to me so closely, and with such affection. Likewise, it has been intoxicating to see my impact on another. To matter, if only for a…

  • Love letter # 533

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    When I look at you I become aware of the distance between hunger and feeding – which can be an ocean sometimes – and an ocean can be said to be made of tears – which is why we have sea walls. …But only when I notice. Which is why I am looking past you…