FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 551

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    We paused on the brink of forever and left with never. So close to everything yet ending with nothing. Had you leant in for that kiss, I would not be here now. And you? Where would you be tonight?  

  • Love letter # 748

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    They say that first impressions last. This is not the case with you. At first, all I noticed was your exterior; that abrasive, sarcastic outer layer you project. It pushed me backwards. Next, I met you with your party face on. Life and soul and so on. But then you let me witness the cracks…

  • Love letter # 697

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Now that I have seen you, I cannot un-see. Until today, you were a name in a group chat. Tonight, you are the lingering sensation of a fine-boned handshake, a picture of wide open eyes, and the thought of coffee-silk skin. Did you hold my gaze for a moment more than necessary, or have I…

  • Love letter # 525

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Lately, I have dreamt of angels; most of them resembling you.

  • Letter to my misremembered sweetheart

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It is clear. I remember you hazily. Incorrectly. Does this matter? In my reconfiguring of us, much of the contradictory truth has been reduced to official fiction. Again, what of it? If I imagine you falsely, and my retrospective editing hurts no one, scarcely even me, what value exactness? Am I not better to love…

  • Love letter # 539

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    5:47pm. It is the precise colour of my love for you. The angle of the light is just about cutting me in two. The irrecoverable years. The distance of my inability to say. The distance of your other life. I take solace in present company. Sunlight on a solitary stem of wild grass. The bustle…

  • Love letter # 959

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You. In those sunglasses. In that lovely black dress. In my room. Me. Beside you. Within you. Lost. We two. A singular choreography. Like solo piano. Dusk and vapour. Breath and dissolving. You in the half light. Me revealed.    

  • Love letter # 508

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    There is a well known prayer attributed to St Francis. Though I do not believe in personality gods or seek the purported wisdom of holy books, there are a few lines that resonate. Not seek to be consoled, as to consoleTo be understood, as to understandTo be loved, as to loveFor it’s in giving that…

  • He knows where I am

    He knows where I am

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    He sings to me. His voice, I hear it in the aching grind of the earth’s steady turn. It calls to me from the radio, seeking me out, a cat in the shadows that never pounces. This gives me hope. I’m a cynical bitch most times. I believe in nothing, but I play the game…

  • Love letter # 634

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I don’t mean this to sound like obsession…but I still think of you. Not in words, or in imagined scenes, but with a strange kind of sensing. Muscle memory perhaps. Something unconscious. It is as though there is a door in space and time through which I can pass in a blink, one that brings…